


To Sing a Song of Steel

by SquibblesMcGoo



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alchemy, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Politics, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - War, Angst, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Feels, I'll use every excuse to get in some feels, Politics, Reader-Insert, Religion, Slow Burn, Smut, Worldbuilding, dark storyline, heavy atmosphere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-06 19:55:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 153,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20512595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquibblesMcGoo/pseuds/SquibblesMcGoo
Summary: As a token of goodwill, you're sent to a hostile foreign nation to marry the son of the Czar.Having given up all you know and living inside a castle that doesn't welcome you, you're surrounded by people you cannot trust, your life hanging by a thread in the unsteady political climate.In your hopelessness, the only solace you find is in a man who's no longer fully human.





	1. Blue and Bronze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a Feels™ fic.
> 
> The reader character will have the default name of Cora Reader because I hate y/n and equivalents with burning passion. I hope this doesn't bother you too much.
> 
> Enjoy!

Your eyes are steady and determined as you meet your gaze in the mirror. Your chambermaids are bustling around you. One is applying rose-coloured blush on your cheek, another is dabbing lavender ointment behind your ear. The third is braiding your hair. You don’t say a word as they work on making you presentable.

You feel the steady pressure of the corset, the weight of your hefty skirts, the way your skin feels tight under the layer of chalky make-up. Despite this, not a muscle on your face moves to make your discomfort known.

When you’re ready, you get up on your steady feet. Your mother, who has been sitting in the corner quietly, raises as well and excuses the maids. Her oval-shaped, worried eyes meet yours and then slide down to look over you.

You’re dressed in a traditional, conservative dress made of heavy satin. The blue and bronze-coloured fabrics match the rest of your chambers. The curtains, sheets and walls are all a brilliant, deep blue colour whereas the wooden floor and furniture all share a warm brown tint to them.

The whole castle shares this colour scheme as it’s the colours of your flag and the colours your Creator Himself has bestowed you with. Blue and bronze, His sacred combination.

You know this is the last time you will ever find solace in the familiar hues of cold blue and cosy brown, the worried eyes of your mother, the gentle touch of your chambermaids. For today, you’re set to travel far away.

Your eyes land on the small, bronze necklace hanging from your mother’s delicate neck. Your eyes slide over the square plate, the four blue jewels in each corner and the proud-looking stag carved in the middle.

You miss the weight of that necklace on your own neck. For centuries and centuries, members of your family have worn those necklaces to signal their dedication to the Creator, who was once believed to traverse this Earth in the form of a large deer.

Your bare neck obviously greatly distresses your mother. Her eyes fill with tears and she rushes to you to hug you tightly.

“Oh, Cora,” she breathes into your shoulder. “My one and only Cora,“ she wails desperately. The news of your departure hit her harder than it hit you. But you can’t blame her, you’re her only child.

Despite being the King’s fifth wife, it is well known that of his wives he is the least fond of your mother. He only seeded one child with her, you, and has since all but completely neglected his union with her. You grew up listening to hushed whispers and rumours about your mother, how the reason the King much prefers his four other wives is her horrible performance in bed, her lacklustre figure or the disappointment of having yet another daughter.

Your father, King Olaf Reader, has had a rather unfortunate track record with his offspring. His first-born was a son, but after that, the rest of his thirteen children have all been girls. As the youngest daughter from the least favoured wife, you are rumoured to be the final nail in the coffin of disappointments that made your father stop breeding for seventeen years, having only recently taken a sixth wife and impregnated her.

You won’t have time to see your younger half-sibling’s birth, due in another week, as you need to be on your way today.

And you’re not dumb enough to think that the role of sailing to the rotten, war-mongering kingdom of Varsiko to marry the devil-worshipping _czarevich_ to solidify a shaky peace that’s recently been established between your nations after a century of warfare, fell on you by accident.

To the kingdom, you’re yet another daughter that needs to be married off eventually. Not only that, you’re the daughter of the least adored wife and there’s zero chance you’ll ever even see the throne, let alone sit on it.

And you know how much this peace means to your kingdom. The century of war with Varsiko has had a heavy toll on your resources. To the point where you’ve decided to abandon the mission of trying to change their Creator-despising ways. To the point of sending one of their royals to marry the son of the _Czar of Varsiko _himself_. _

Varsiko, your future home, is a small military state. Despite being sandwiched between East Novaryn, the part of your kingdom on the other side of Mantem River, and Mortis Sea, the Sea to which Mantem River flows, they have successfully held their own against your attacks. Not the least because they use the vast majority of their budget on military and alchemy research.

According to the sacred texts handed down by your Creator, to bond or mate with someone who embraces the wicked ways of alchemist rituals means to lose their soul with no way of reversing this grim fate. With full knowledge of this, you were appointed the bride-to-be to the youngest son of the Czar.

You’re fully aware of this, and you’ve accepted your destiny. You will give your body and soul for your kingdom and wilfully hand them to the Damnation-worshipping hands of the Varsikovian royal family.

You stroke your mother’s back with an empty smile.

“Do not fret, mother. I will be fine,” you promise and pull away from the tight embrace to show her your calm, determined eyes.

She moves her hand towards your cheek but stops midway when she realises she would only mess up your make-up. Instead, she places it on your shoulder.

“Who shall I spend my days with now? Oh, Cora, my lovely child,” she whispers and bursts in tears anew. “I will pray for you. I will grovel and beg for the Creator to have pity on your soul. He is wise and all-knowing, maybe He will understand-“

“Mother,” you sigh gently. “You know he does not take kindly to pestering. You will only risk getting struck down in His fit of anger.”

Your mother hugs you again.

“Promise me you will try not to breed with him. Do not let our blood mix with their kind, Cora. They are animals.“

You nod wordlessly. You’ll do your best even though you know it’ll be in vain. Sooner or later, the czarevich is bound to want to lay with his wife, especially since their relationships are strictly monogamous.

A maid knocks on the door and tells you the carriage has arrived and is ready to escort you to the harbour. From there, you’re set to take a boat across the Mantem River to the seaside city of Rekanon, the heavily guarded capital of Varsiko.

As you descend the marble stairs, from the solace of your chambers, down to the maze-like corridors of the castle, you look around as much as you can to keep the memories fresh.

The bronze-coloured armours lined up along the hallways by the blue, long carpets covering the floors. The painted glass windows, most depicting religious imagery of the Creator. The heavy wooden doors leading to the kitchen, the dining hall, the servants’ wing, to your siblings’ and parents’ quarters and countless other places, some of which you never deemed important enough to visit.

The conservatively dressed maids and servant boys who stop and bow as you pass by, the patrolling guards who take out their swords and kneel for you when you walk past them, the absent-minded priests who give you long, pitying looks and touch their forehead and chest with the palms of their hands, a gesture of prayer.

You walk down the large staircase to the entrance hall. By the door, you spot a familiar man. As you recognise the brown silk outfit of tight-fitting pants and neatly tailored jacket, complete with leather boots and elbow-length gloves, a relieved smile spreads on your features.

You were afraid no one aside from your mother would see you off.

“Sirius,” you breathe. Your one and only brother, the crown prince of Novaryn, hurries to hug you.

Out of all your siblings, you always got along the best with your older brother. He was always nice to everyone and sympathised with your difficult situation inside the castle. Then again, he could afford to not harbour ill will towards you. As the oldest child and only son, he is the apple of your father’s eye and the golden child of the whole kingdom.

Your sisters, on the other hand, always had to compete in order to have their father as much as glance their way.

As you hug, a flood of memories returns to you. Of Sirius hoisting you on his horse and walking you around when you were just a little squirt. Of him coming to your room every Wednesday with a candied apple and a new book to read you when you couldn’t read yet yourself. Of him talking your father into sending you a short letter of congratulations when you turned sixteen and thus became of age.

It’s hard to keep your face neutral and prevent your eyes from glistening with tears as you remember the small, warm moments that made this castle feel like home.

“I’m sorry, Cora. I tried to talk some sense into him but he wouldn’t budge. He cares more about ending this war than he does about his daughter’s soul.”

Sirius looks heartbroken as he pulls back. You offer him the same, hollow smile as you did your mother.

“Do not worry, brother. I will fare just fine,” you promise him. “My soul is a cheap price to pay for stifling this war. Given how I have read one too many of those scandalous love novels father tried very hard to outlaw,” you chuckle. This marriage may rid you of your soul, but your love for reading is one thing no one can take from you. You just hope the Rekanon Castle has a killer library.

You raise your skirts and step out to the sunny, kempt courtyard.

You look at the diligently cropped grass fields, stone tables and chairs under parasols, where you used to have your afternoon tea. Then, you look at the carriage that’s waiting for you. Pulled by two pearl-white _Augeron_ horses and manned by the driver as well as two guards, it’s nothing fancy. The less attention you pull to yourself as you travel through Novaryn, the better.

Your sparse belongings are packed in a single suitcase. A freckled maid packs them in and then stands aside with a curtsey.

You turn to give your mother and brother one last hug. Your mother looks utterly heartbroken and there’s no stopping her sobs. Sirius, while composed, looks equally worried.

“Promise to write,” he reassures. You nod. He cups your cheek. Unlike your mother, he cares not about the make-up.

“Soul or not, you are still my little sister. Never forget that,” he tells you gently. Your smile is filled with gratitude.

“And even as a soulless, astray child of Damnation, you are still my big brother,” you tell him. He grins a little.

You disentangle yourself from your mother’s clingy arms and allow one of the guards to help you inside the carriage.

As the horses start pulling you towards the harbour, you dare not look back.

-

The air in this country is different. Novaryn smells earthy and fresh. It’s warm, sunny, engulfed in light and nature with deep, ancient forests and churches older than the nation itself.

The second you step out of the ship to the wooden dock, you’re met with the pungent smell of metal. You glance at the grey and red flag flapping in one of the masts, and immediately feel colder.

Many of the locals stop to gawk at you, a foreign lady in Novaryn’s colours, and you could swear the grey-suited guards who are there to pick you up give you unfriendly little glares.

You step into a carriage that’s pulled by two sturdy Mongol horses. Not a word is uttered as you traverse through the industrial city. All around, you see buildings made of tile and metal rather than stone and wood, like you’re used to in Novaryn. Thanks to constant raids and ransacking by Novaryn for the last century, all of the architecture here is new. There are no buildings that look older than a decade.

Most people you see on the street are wearing military uniforms. You studied Varsiko meticulously before your arrival, so you know that the vast majority of their citizens either work for the army or as gunsmiths. Varsiko is, thanks to Novaryn, a very militarised nation. A monarchy on paper, yet the _de facto_ leader is whoever sits at the helm of the military. The royal family mostly functions as a symbol.

Thus, you don’t expect to be too involved in politics.

The Rekanon Castle is large and compared to the ancient, stone building you grew up in, it looks hollower. Rather than made of stone with multiple, liberally situated towers here and there and a large, green yard, the Rekanon Castle looks much more like a fortress. Made of grey bricks with a red, flat roof and two symmetrical, sturdy-looking watchtowers on each side, you immediately doubt you’ll feel much at home here.

The front yard has no garden or spots for sitting and soaking in the sun. Save for an aggressively cropped lawn and a single pathway going through it, there’s nothing of note outside.

No one’s arrived to receive you. You’re not too surprised. The two guards take your suitcase and escort you through the yard to the castle. The second you open the door to the main hall, you notice that the whole building is absurdly grey. The walls and floors are both dull stone, and the only thing bringing some life to the aesthetic is the crimson red carpets rolled over the floors.

You see a few servants walk in a corridor further away, a passing maid in a grey dress stops to give you a stunned blink before curtseying reluctantly and hurrying past you to a long, empty corridor that looks to be leading to the kitchen. Armed guards are standing on each side of the door with their eyes pointed forward, and they don’t as much as glance at you.

The guards you arrived with walk you through the hollow corridors. You note that the windows here are clear, see-through glass with no paintings, and the dull-coloured wooden doors are all closed. After walking through what feels like the whole castle, you stop at one of the doors, situated in the farthest end of the west wing.

“You will have dinner with your fiancé and the rest of the royal family in an hour's time. I recommend changing out of _that_,” the guard gives your blue and bronze dress a look oozing of poorly concealed disgust, “beforehand. Your appointed guard will pick you up and escort you.”

You nod, not one to start talking back first thing. Attending dinner in your country’s colours might be seen as rebellious and too patriotic.

You open the door and walk inside. The guard walks in, sets your suitcase down by the door and quickly excuses himself. He’s obviously not too eager to stay close to you.

You look around the spacious room you’re to call home from now on. Like the rest of the castle, the walls and floors are the same shade of uninspiring grey. The curtains, carpets and sheets on the bed are warm saffron red, and there are a couple of tapestries on the walls. One depicts Varsiko’s flag, the grey background with a red arsenic symbol.

The other is fine white cotton and has the image of a cloaked figure stitched on it. The figure is kneeling before a wall with a large circle chalked on it. Leaning against the wall, in the middle of the circle, is a naked boy with a cross drawn on his chest.

It’s a depiction of an alchemy ritual. A practice your Creator has explicitly forbidden.

A fiancée to one of these deviants or not, about to lose your soul or not, you conclude you don’t have to stand for these images in your own bedroom. Thus, you take down the tapestry, roll it and chuck it under the wide and luxurious bed.

Next to the bed is a mahogany bedside table. On the table, a gas lamp, a hand mirror and a handkerchief are placed for your use. Before the large window pointing west, there is a wooden desk with a quill pencil and parchment papers. Against the wall next to the bed stands a white vanity and a matching wardrobe. You peek inside the drawers just to confirm that the wardrobe is filled with clothes suitable for a woman your age and stature.

The bookshelf stands empty next to a door leading out to a small private balcony. You make a mental note to fix this as soon as possible.

You make a brief visit outside just to admire the setting sun and apricot sky for a moment. You had requested your quarters to have windows and balcony facing west, as you rather enjoy sunsets. The backyard below you, however, is just as uninteresting as the front yard. The grass is short with a single, tiled road splitting through it. Tall stone walls circle the area, giving it a prison-like quality. There are a couple of flowerbeds, however, as well as a few benches and a cricket pitch. Further away are the stables, and you can see some horses pasturing outside.

In the bathroom, the first thing that catches your eye is the large bathtub, next to a water pump. The toilet and sink, as well as the bathtub, are fully sanitary and connected to a water pump and a sewer system, a sight uncommon in Novaryn. You look over the porcelain commodities for a moment but soon lose interest.

Just as you’re beginning to wonder if you’re supposed to get changed on your own, there’s a knock on the door and an older maid briskly walks in. Skin tanned and wrinkly from a lifetime of manual labour and her greying, thin hair combed up on a tight bun, she looks very stern. Her grey cotton dress swishes as she unceremoniously marches to the wardrobe and takes out a black evening gown. She then turns to you expectantly.

“I’m supposed to make you presentable for dinner, Miss,” she says. Her voice is curt and not very friendly. It seems like everyone here has an attitude towards you. Not that you’re shocked by this, there is the whole century of warfare -thing.

You nod and turn your back. You feel the maid start pulling the strings at the back of your outfit loose.

“I am the maid in charge of looking after you. Should you ever need anything, call for Maid Springer,” she tells you, though she very much sounds like it’s out of pure obligation rather than a genuine desire to look after you.

Your dress falls to your feet and you step out of it. She grabs the blue and bronze clothing and folds it expertly before putting it in the wardrobe. The black gown is pulled on next, and her fingers are very nimble as she fastens it.

She then slips on a pair of silver earrings and a diamond necklace, and you finish the outfit by pulling on a pair of silky black gloves and matching heels.

Maid Springer curtseys shortly and walks out without a word. As she opens the door, she comes face to face with someone who was just about to let himself in.

Springer pauses and blinks, a bit taken aback, and then hurries to curtsey. You notice the gesture is much deeper and more enthusiastic when directed towards this man rather than you.

“Miss is ready for dinner, Ser,” she announces. The man waves her off and steps inside.

You pause to look at him. He’s wearing the same grey military uniform the guards from earlier were. A light grey button-up shirt, a pair of dark grey pants and a black leather belt. On his feet, he’s wearing a pair of black leather boots. The only thing that’s different compared to the guards you’ve seen so far is that this one has a red cape placed on his shoulders, fastened in place with a metal pin in the shape of the arsenic symbol, the very same one that’s depicted on Varsiko’s flag. You see a sword hanging from his hips and there’s a rifle fastened over his back.

You look over the uniform in silence and then, finally, look over his face. He looks to be rather young, in his early thirties maybe. His black hair is trimmed with a cropped hairstyle and his grey eyes are watching you with a calm yet undeniably wary and distrusting look.

You’re not concerned about his unfriendly attitude at the moment. Instead, your eyes are glued to his right hand. On the back of his hand, you can see a tattooed symbol of a triangle placed inside a circle.

You know what that symbol is.

The man notices where your eyes have stopped, and he scoffs. He raises his hand to show you the tattoo.

“Shocked?” he asks lazily. “Afraid your Creator will strike you down if you as much as share a space with someone augmented?”

You rip your eyes away from the tattoo and meet his eyes with your head held high.

“No. It is just the first time I see a spawn of Damnation, is all,” you tell him with a cool tone. He snorts and leans against the wall.

“Then, I suggest you get used to it,” he tells you bluntly. “Plenty of us here.”

“So I have heard, unfortunately. It is always sad to see people who have rejected the ways of the Creator-”

“Spare you preach, little miss,” the man cuts you off dryly. “As far as your _Creator_ is concerned, you’ve already forsaken him by coming here with the intention of marrying the son of our Czar.”

You notice that the man doesn’t speak to you formally. He seems blatantly uninterested in addressing you as a superior. You don’t know if it’s because you’re a royal from a nation that’s for a century been his enemy, or if he’s like that with everyone.

“I assume you are the guard appointed to looking after me,” you say.

“As much as I opposed to this, yes,” the man replies, unimpressed. “What a way to punish me, taking me off the field and straight to babysitting duty,” he mutters to himself.

“The field?” you tilt your head a little.

“I used to be in the Wing of Offence up until a few weeks ago. And as soon as they decide I’ve suffered enough for my insubordination and can return to my real duties, I’m out of here. So, don’t get too attached to me, little miss.”

“I do not think that’s a real concern,” you reply with a roll of your eyes. You have no desire to get cosy with people in this castle, much less an augmented soldier who calls you _little miss_.

The guard starts escorting you to the dining hall. You walk quietly but every now and then, you glance at the tattoo on his hand.

Augmentation. The biggest breakthrough in modern alchemy. For as long as Varsiko has existed, they have used the ancient science of alchemy. Blending materials and metals, fortifying buildings and enhancing weapons with different spells and rituals, it’s mostly thanks to the alchemy that the military of this nation has managed to fend Novaryn off for so long.

And during the last seventy years, a considerable effort was made to find a formula for not only improving buildings and weapons but also humans. Countless people lost their lives to aggressive and purpose-oriented experimentation. You have no doubt many of those people were Novarynian.

But as a result, they found a way to merge various metals into human bodies, making them much less vulnerable. Furthermore, save for the tattoo the augmented people take for the purpose of completing the alchemy ritual, these people are indistinguishable from normal people and their bodies seem to work as normal.

To your knowledge, only a handful of people have been successfully augmented, the last of your intel assumed the amount to be in the hundreds. And your guard just happens to be one of those people.

You’re allowed inside the large dining hall. The maids are fussing around, setting up the table and the foods. You notice two guards by the door you just walked through, as well as on each side of the other two doors. None of them is wearing a cape like your guard is, and you conclude it must be a rank thing.

The mahogany table is large enough to seat thirty, but you notice it’s only been set for six people. It’s situated right next to a large, wall-length glass window facing the carefully kempt yet barren backyard. Various paintings, tapestries and coats of arms are hung over the grey walls, and a red cloth is placed over the table. So far, it’s the most ornate and colourful room you’ve seen in this castle.

By the window, you see a few people standing in a circle and chattering with a low voice. The second you walk in, they all turn to look at you simultaneously.

You look over their faces. The oldest man with dark brown hair and round glasses you recognise from portraits. Czar Grisha Yeager. The symbolic head of Varsiko and the initiator of peace negotiations between your country and his. The marriage was his idea and you hear he voiced vocal opposition from both the citizens and the military.

Ultimately, however, Admiral Zackly backed up the suggestion. And here you are, as a result.

The woman next to him is beautiful, with clean, milky skin and dark, woven hair. Her luscious, red dress is tightly cinched around her narrow waist. She must be the Second Czarina, Carla Yeager.

With the royal couple are two boys and a girl. The older boy has light brown hair and he looks astonishingly much like Czar Yeager, even down to the round glasses sitting on his nose and the facial hair around his mouth. The eyes behind said glasses, however, are exceptionally cold as they land on you. His outfit is similar to the Czar’s, with a grey jacket, white button-up shirt and a pair of tight-fitting black pants. He, unlike the Czar and Czarina, is not wearing a crown.

The younger boy looks much more like the Czarina with dark, silky hair, large green eyes and a clean, fair complexion. He’s dressed more carefree than the other men, with a simple brown shirt and a pair of grey pants. Out of the bunch, he looks the least like royalty.

The last person in the group is a young woman. Short and petite with golden hair, she looks the friendliest out of the group. Her blue eyes have a gentle sheen to them, and her bronze-coloured dress instantly reminds you of home and sets you more at ease.

“Ah,” Czar Yeager starts with a well-meaning smile. “Cora Reader. The youngest daughter of King Olaf Reader. Royal of Novaryn. My soon-to-be daughter-in-law,” he lists with a wide smile, your presence the culmination of his years of hard work.

“Your Grace,” you greet and give him a formal curtsey.

“Oh, none of that please,” he hurries to say. “I’m glad you got here safely and could join us for dinner. May I introduce you to my wife, Carla,” he gestures to the Czarina, who gives you a stiff smile, clearly not sure what to make of you yet.

“My eldest son Zeke,” he introduces the boy in glasses. He gives you the tiniest little nod. “And this is his fiancée, Historia Reiss. Their wedding will be in a few months’ time.”

The blonde girl grabs your hand and squeezes it with a smile.

“Nice to meet you,” she says, and the sound of her melodic voice makes you relax just a bit. You squeeze her hand back.

“Likewise.”

“And this,” Grisha says ceremonially and turns to the younger boy, “is Eren. Your fiancé.”

Your eyes meet. It’s not love at first sight. You don’t feel your stomach turning or the ground shaking under your feet. You don’t sense your heart beating faster. He’s good-looking, you suppose, but your first impression of him is on the neutral side.

You curtsey to him, and he gives you a short bow in response, but you don’t see any excessive interest in his eyes.

As you sit down at the table, one of the doors opens and in slips a girl. She’s wearing a red cape similar to your guard, and she quickly moves to stand by him. You give her a glance, but she doesn’t speak up and no one pays attention to her, so you dismiss her as one of the higher-ranking guards and turn to your food.

A slice of the roast is placed on your plate and topped with some gravy, along with some steamed peas, boiled potatoes and cherry tomatoes. You’re not hungry, but you force the fork to your lips all the same. You don’t want to seem rude.

“I hope the journey wasn’t too tiring for you,” Czar Yeager says after a moment of silence. You finish chewing and swallow before replying.

“It was rather pleasant. The wind was behind us the whole way.”

“I see.”

“If you want to furnish your room to your liking, don’t hesitate to ask for whatever you need,” the Czarina adds. You nod and smile that same, proper but distant smile you gave your mother and brother.

The royal couple and Historia do their best to include you in conversations, but you notice that Zeke and Eren both stay quiet and only answer with short grunts and single-word sentences.

Eren finishes his meal fast and gets on his feet. He gives you a long look and finally opens his mouth.

“When you’re done, come to my room,” he tells you simply and strides to the door. The girl in red cape follows him quietly as he walks out of the door.

You look after him, equal parts curious and apprehensive.

“Oh my, always so blunt,” the Czarina sighs with a small smile. “I hope you two get along. He’s a fierce boy but try to be understanding. Underneath all that, he’s a good child,” she tells you with warm, motherly passion. You smile.

“I’m sure we will get along great, your grace.”

You hear Zeke scoff in his seat but ignore it.

“Actually, there is something I would like to ask,” you suddenly realise.

“What is it?” The Czar asks.

“I have a bookshelf in my room, but no books. If at all possible, I would like to borrow some from the library.”

The Czar chuckles.

“Books, eh? You like reading?”

“I do.”

“Me, too. A fine hobby,” he says warmly. “Take any books you fancy and if you find our collection lacking, do not hesitate to ask us for refurbishments. Ask Levi to take you when it suits you.”

“Levi,” you repeat the unfamiliar name. The Czar blinks and then laughs.

“Trust our esteemed Captain not to even introduce himself. Levi Ackerman, your appointed guard,“ he explains and gestures to the man standing behind you. You turn to give him a glance, just to see him leaning against the wall behind you with a bored, blank expression. He gives you a bland stare.

Nodding, you turn back to your food.

A dozen minutes later, the Czar and Czarina have finished dining and you feel comfortable excusing yourself. With a curtsey, you leave the dining hall.

“The czarevich asked me to visit him,” you tell Levi, who followed you out without a word.

“I heard,” he says dully. “Follow me then.”

He walks ahead of you and starts showing you the way to Eren’s quarters. You follow quietly and look at the arsenic symbol on the back of his cape.

He’s a military captain, the Czar said. And as per his own words, he doesn’t intend to stay here long, only until he’s allowed back in the field. You wonder what kind of augmentations he’s undergone. You wonder if he feels different, being forsaken by the Creator. You wonder if you will feel different once you’re forsaken as well.

Levi leads you to the northern wing. At the end of the hallway, there’s a door. Guarded by the girl you saw earlier, she tenses a little when she sees you. Levi nods at her and moves to stand on the other side of the door.

With a steadying breath, you knock on the door. You hear a grunt from inside, telling you to come in. You grab the brass handle and before you have time to make yourself nervous, you yank it open and walk inside.

Eren’s quarters are very different from yours. The room is much larger, with swords and guns hung all around the walls. His desk is filled with all sorts of papers and books, and you recognise a few of the titles to be war novels.

He’s ridden himself of the red curtains and carpets and instead replaced them with browns and blacks. You make a mental note to do the same for your own room. Maybe you can even get away with making your room blue and bronze.

His bed is unkempt, with the blankets and pillows carelessly thrown in a pile at the foot of the mattress. You notice that instead of crimson red, the linen is neutral white.

Eren is sitting on the couch by the window, his back resting against the armrest and his feet carelessly swinging off the side of the couch. In his hand, he has a crumpled-up parchment paper.

When he sees you, he gets on his feet and tosses the paper on top of his wardrobe. His eyes are unreadable and a little bit ominous as he approaches you.

You close the door after yourself and force yourself to face him properly. It’s your husband-to-be, you’ll need to get used to the sight of him sooner or later.

“You don’t need to be on guard. I’m not going to do anything to you,” he says simply. You nod.

“I did not think you would,” you say honestly. “You do not seem to be too interested in this engagement.”

“I hate politics,” he announces and turns to look out of the window, of the dim yard and dark sky. “And this union is nothing but politics.”

You nod and lean against the door a little.

“I will carry the marriage through as ordered but don’t expect romantics and sentimental displays. That’s all I wish to say to you.”

You look at his dismissive, mildly irritated expression.

“Alright,” you say quietly. “I’m glad we are on the same page. I’m doing this for my country, that is all there is to it. The less is required of me, the better.”

Eren nods and gives you a glance, this one a bit less cold than the previous ones.

“That’s all,” he says and dismisses you. You open the door and slip outside, equal parts relieved and blue. Relieved, because you’re on the same page about the nature of your engagement. Blue, because this cements what you already know; that your fate is to forever remain in a place you may never learn to call home, surrounded by people who would prefer you not be here, bound to a person to whom you’re a nuisance.

The girl standing outside looks taken aback when you re-emerge so soon. Then, her shoulders relax and she glances at the door to Eren’s room.

Your expression is steely and calm as you start making your way back towards your quarters. The youngest daughter as you may be, you were still taught a thing or two about operating in royal circles.

Always remain calm.

Keep your cards close to your chest.

Conduct yourself with dignity.

The three things your mother spent your early years hammering into your head. And you’ll be damned if you let her down.

As you make your way back to your room, the evening turns into night. You know you should feel tired, but the unfamiliar surroundings keep you on your toes.

As you round the corner to your quarters, you realise someone’s leaning against the corridor wall waiting for you. When you see the light hair and round glasses, your neck instantly prickles on instinct.

Zeke’s arms are crossed and his eyes are cold as he looks at you. You pause in front of him.

“Your grace,” you greet him, tone calm and neutral.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Zeke responds bluntly.

“I’m not sure I follow,” you reply. He scoffs and straightens his posture.

“Ninety per cent of this nation is not happy you’re here,” he tells you straightforwardly, “the people who are sympathetic towards you or your country within this castle can be counted with one hand, and you met all of them in that dining hall.”

He walks until he’s uncomfortably close to you and stops. You stay quiet and let him speak.

“And once things go down, even your guard won’t hesitate to shoot you in the back if given the order to,” he continues. You meet his gaze steadily.

“The peace between our nations is hanging by a thread and no one expects it to last for more than a year. And when the war breaks out again, the first thing on the list of likely outcomes is that your head goes rolling.”

He places the tip of his finger on your throat and slides across. His eyes, albeit cold and ruthless, display a hue of curiosity, intrigue even.

His eyes slide to Levi, who’s watching without a word, albeit his eyes are alert and his hand is clutching the handle of his rifle. Zeke chuckles.

“Well, it seems like at least for now, he’ll remain under orders to keep you alive.”

With that, Zeke turns and walks off. You stare after him and slump against the wall.

There’s nothing he said that you didn’t already know. It’s just a very unwelcome reminder of the reality of your situation.

You take a deep breath and enter your room. To your astonishment, Levi follows you in.

“What are you doing?” you ask warily as Levi starts standing guard next to the door.

“Orders,” Levi grunts. You blink.

“By whom?”

“The Czar. I was told to keep you company whenever possible.”

You roll your eyes and grab your nightgown. You walk to the bathroom to get changed in private. You freshen up while you’re there and when you walk outside, Levi’s still standing next to the door.

You open the balcony door to let in some fresh air and look over the dark, quiet backyard. Only the lanterns of patrolling guards illuminate the ground below.

You sit down on the cold stone rail and look out to the dark horizon deep in thought. When you swing your legs over the railing, sitting with your back towards the room, you hear Levi walk to the balcony door.

“Do not worry, I’m not suicidal,” you tell him without turning. You look at the long drop down and sigh.

You think over what Zeke told you. You know it’s likely that you won’t live past the next year. With the unstable political climate and imminent threat of war, you will cease to be treated like royalty here the second the battling between Varsiko and Novaryn reignites.

“Levi,” you call to the man behind you.

“What?”

“When the time comes to get rid of me, instead of shooting me in the back, could you aim for my head?” you ask with a light, conversational tone. “It is quicker and easier.”

Levi stays quiet and you feel his wary eyes on you. You chuckle to yourself.

“Do not mind me. Humour is just my way of coping,” you enlighten him.

“I see.”

When you feel your resolve chipping away, second by second, you bite your lip and force your voice steady with the expertise of someone who grew up in the middle of whispers and scorn, pretending not to notice.

“Could you step back inside for just a moment and close the door?” you request. He looks at you for a few seconds, and you then hear the door close with a small clack.

Looking out to the dark yard, you finally allow the tears to come. You sob as quietly and composedly as you can as the hopelessness of your situation makes it hard to breathe.

Inside, leaning against the balcony door with a grim look on his face, Levi stands guard to your silent tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Brain:** Hey  
**Me:** What.  
**Brain:** Let's write a fantasy fic that's going to be really fucking long  
**Me:** No.  
**Brain:** Why not?  
**Me:** You can't just write a fantasy fic, you need to come up with a setting and do some serious planning and worldbuilding and we have no time for-  
**Brain:** Done.  
**Me:** What?  
**Brain:** Setting, political structure, religion, lore, foreign relations, I even drew a map and planned their architecture and fashion, here.  
**Me:** ..you want this to be a slow burn with lots of descriptions, heavy angst and political scheming, don't you?  
**Brain:** Please.
> 
> Okay yeah, I could not stop myself from starting this fic. The idea of writing a fic with guard Levi and royalty/heiress/equivalent Reader in a very complex and politically tense setting has been brewing for some time. This is going to have a grimmer atmosphere than my other works. Be prepared for worldbuilding and a rather slow burn. This will also probably be one of my longer works, though 45 chapters is merely an estimate. (Landlocked and Of Tea and High Buildings won't be abandoned, I promise!)
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts. Is this something you guys are interested in reading? Please let me know and dissolve that persistent insecurity that always emerges when I start a new story and test waters during the first few chapters.


	2. The Good Girl Act

”The castle is large and has most necessities. Aside from the private rooms of the residents and some restricted alchemy laboratories and libraries, feel free to explore as you will,” Historia explains. The hems of your dresses make a cushy sound as you walk along the barren hallways, nothing but red carpets and curtains accentuating the dull grey.

Historia turns to give you a friendly but well-guarded smile.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to life here in no time. It may feel a little weird at first, but this castle is surprisingly comfortable.”

_For someone who’s not a bargaining chip sent from a country yours has been at war with for a century, that may be true,_ you think to yourself grimly, but you reciprocate Historia’s smile with your own.

Behind you, Levi and Historia’s guard, a blond man by the name of Thomas Wagner, walk quietly. It’s day three in this castle, and Historia decided to at least attempt decency by giving you a tour.

You visit the roof of one of the watchtowers, where grumpy-looking soldiers are lounging around and playing cards while leaning against the heavy cannons situated next to the tiled walls. That is until Levi steps to the roof after you and the soldiers hurry to look like they’re diligently keeping watch.

You notice Levi gives them a very cold glare.

You visit the kitchen, bustling with maids and chefs who prepare dinner to feed not only the royal family but all of the staff and soldiers living here as well.

You briefly peek inside the library, and you make a mental note to ask Levi to bring you there once there’s an opportune moment for a more lengthy visit.

Outside, you walk through the stables and Historia makes sure to introduce you to her horse. She seemed the kind to get overly attached to pets, but when she’s given you a fifteen-minute monologue about her horse’s intelligence and the softness of his gaits, you get a bit bored.

Then, finally, you make your way to the South wing. Historia grows visibly nervous as she opens the door to another grey hallway, this one more dimly lit.

“And here’s…” Historia trails off and winces. “Here’s where we conduct the-”

She’s cut off by the sound of one of the doors in the hallway banging open. Someone slings out with a loud yell and opens the window across from the door.

“This useless lump of scrap metal! This is lead, not mercury!” she screeches.

That someone rolls her arm back with the full intention of throwing the heavy-looking ingot of metal she has in her grip out of the window with full force, but two other people run out of the room she barged from and pull her back in unison.

“Ma’am, please reconsider,” a blond, short boy begs.

“Listen to Armin, Hange, what if you hit someone with that?“ the other person repeats, though he sounds a lot more irritated and assertive.

When the woman is pulled back, you take a good look at her. She has brown hair that’s carelessly been pulled on a ponytail. A red scarf is tied over one of her eyes. She’s wearing the same grey military outfit everyone else is, but on the back of her jacket, there’s a symbol of a circle with a triangle inside. The same symbol that’s tattooed on the back of Levi’s hand.

She’s an alchemist, you immediately conclude, and take a wary step back.

The two men forcefully pulling her back from the window have the same kind of uniform with the same symbol.

The woman topples back and reluctantly allows the taller and older brunette man to wrench the metal from her hand. Her eyes land on the four of you and she immediately forgets what she was doing. A wide smile instantly spreads on her face.

No longer upset about the metal, she springs to you and shoves you out of the way to get to Levi, giving zero regards to the fact that you’re obviously royalty. You could swear she’s drooling just a little at the sight of him.

“Levi!” she greets, animated. “How are you? How are your shards? Are they functioning properly? I still think I got the composition of the metal down just right but I _was_ briefly concerned about the amount of mercury in the formula…”

She mutters to herself as she pats down Levi’s arms and torso with zero concern for his personal space. Levi slaps her hands off with an irritated frown, clearly no stranger to this kind of treatment by her.

You watch the show with a perplexed expression. It’s the first time you see anyone act familiar with Levi. Hell, it’s the first time you’ve ever seen anyone act familiar with _anyone_ in this castle.

“Captain Levi was Ms Hange’s first augmentation.”

You turn to see that the blond boy has walked up to you. His fair hair has been cut just below his ears, and he has a well-meaning smile on his features. You glance behind him to see the brunette man walk back into the room, examining the stone with an exasperated sigh.

“As such, she can’t help but feel like he was a test or a sample and worry about the quality of his augmentations.”

You look at the boy with a cautious expression. He bows down slightly.

“I’m Armin. You must be the Novarynian who arrived a few days ago.”

Your eyes glaze over his face to see if there’s any distaste or disgust when he says your country’s name, but you sense none. Either there’s no prejudice from his part, or he’s better at hiding it than most people here.

“I see you’re as reckless as ever,” Levi, meanwhile, tells Hange dryly. “Last time I saw you, you at least had both of your eyes still.”

“Oh, this? I’ll augment it eventually and it’ll be better than a normal eye,” Hange disregards easily. The ease with which she talks about using dark magic and metals to mutilate her body greatly disturbs you.

“So? Why are you here? Do you need me to optimise? I just tried out some new blends of aluminium and zinc that should improve your speed-”

“No, I plan on letting you nowhere near my body,” Levi announces and takes a step back. “I’m just here to guard that little miss.”

Only when he nods towards you does Hange give you a proper once-over. A look of realisation spreads on her face and she smiles brightly.

“Oh, the Novarynian princess,” she says and hurries to you. She grabs your hand and ushers you towards the room she came from.

“Here for a tour? Don’t be shy, come on in!”

You’re pushed to a dim laboratory. Only some gas lamps illuminate the cluttered space. You look around the walls, filled with shelves. On each shelf, there are lumps of metal, pieces of armour, guns, swords, old and dusty books, all sorts of equipment carelessly scattered around with no rhyme or reason as for how they’re arranged.

In the middle of the room is a large stone table. In the centre is a collection of painted alchemy symbols, and to your utter horror, a dead rabbit placed in the middle of one of them, a symbol in the shape of a crescent moon.

From the corner of your eye, you see Levi giving both the room and the rabbit a grossed out glare.

Outside the alchemy circles are lumps of metal, recently melted together, as well as stacks of parchment paper, each filled to the brim with messy notes.

The man from earlier is checking over one of the papers and when you extend your neck to steal a peek, you see a very complicated mathematical formula scribbled on it. You can tell none of it.

“Here,” the man tells Hange and points at a number. “You miscalculated. By halving the amount of lithium, you’ll up your chances of a proper reaction.”

“What are you talking about? You simpleton, I just che-” she pauses when her eyes land on the numbers and she quickly snatches the paper from him. She’s now completely forgotten you’re even there.

“…Oops,” she finally admits. The man sighs deeply.

A couple of minutes later, Armin walks into the room with a tray full of tea.

“Here, Mr Moblit,” he tells the brunette man. The man in question takes a cup without a word.

You see Levi’s eyes flash when Armin nears him with the tray, and he leans over it to examine each cup carefully. Then, he picks the one he deems to look the best brewed.

So, he likes tea. Or at least, he’s very particular about it.

You take your teacup and turn your attention back to the alchemy table. It’s the first time you’re so close to anything this blasphemous. It’s equal parts intriguing and terrifying.

“Ah, this must be the first time you see an alchemy lab,” Armin realises as he stows away the now empty tray. “Ours is a bit messier than most,”

“That’s an understatement,” comes a mutter from Levi’s general direction.

“-but they’re all more or less like this.”

“Why is it so dim in here?” you ask with a frown. You’d imagine good lighting helps with experiments.

“Oh, that’s to check the composition. For example,” Armin grabs two lumps of metal from one of the shelves. “Here we have two different metals. When I combine them,” Armin places them down on one of the symbols. This one has two linked stars inside a square, “they form something new.”

He lathers his hand with some kind of liquid substance and places it on the square. Instantly, the symbol painted on the table lights up with a dim, purple light. The lumps of metal grow together like two crawling tumours leeching off each other until they’re completely merged and smooth.

“As you can see, it’s impossible to tell that this was made of two different metals. But the dim hue they retain for a couple of minutes afterwards tells us exactly what we’ve created,” Armin explains. He holds the metal close to you and you narrow your eyes.

You can see a slight, golden light radiating from it, one that would be impossible to see in good lighting.

“That golden light tells me I’ve made a nice ingot of semi high-grade copper with an enhancement that makes it invulnerable to anything but platinum and titanium,” he explains. Your eyes widen.

“That copper is now high-grade armour?” you ask, taken aback.

“Yes. From here, we send these lumps of metal to blacksmiths and gunsmiths.”

You try not to look too impressed. But if making metal like that is this easy, it’s no wonder Varsiko has fended Novaryn off for so long.

“So, you can turn any piece of junk into that kind of invaluable metal?” you ask. Armin chuckles.

“Yes, and no. We need certain types of metal and minerals, as well as other chemical compounds to use in the enhancements.”

“Compounds?” you ask and tilt your head. Armin gestures to the bowl of liquid that he lathered his hand with before performing the ritual.

“Different elements. That’s lithium, but we also use magnesium, plutonium, uranium…”

Your eyes fly wide open.

“But those are toxic chemicals!” you point out with a distressed gasp.

“We know, little miss,” Levi speaks up from where he’s leaning against the doorway with his teacup.

“How can you just sink your hands in lithium unscathed?” You may not use alchemy at all, but even you know that most chemicals are very dangerous to dally with.

“We don’t. It’s… Complicated,” Armin dodges with an avoidant look in his eyes. You narrow your eyes and cross your arms. You turn to give Historia a questioning look.

“Even I don’t know how they can touch those chemicals,” Historia says apologetically. “Only the scientists know the details of alchemy.”

“Then, what is this?” you ask and gesture towards the rabbit. Hange grabs it and shows it to you with a proud grin.

It’s clearly been killed with a clean slit of throat. In addition, its belly has been cut open and, to your utter horror, you see that there’s a thin metal coating going along its intestines. You also see a couple of metal ribs.

“We’re experimenting with animal augmentation!” she announces. “Imagine having a horse whose legs are enhanced with steel! Or a hawk whose heart and wings are titanium, making it impossible to shoot down! The possibilities are endless.” She’s very excited as she rambles, and now there’s certainly some drool on her face. Moblit, however, gives you a suspicious look.

“Is it wise to tell her what we’re researching? She’s a Novarynian,” he points out, but Hange waves him away like he’s a mosquito flying around her face.

“She’s here to marry Eren, right? Then she’s one of ours now and she would find out either way,” she disregards. Your mouth purses and you can’t help but voice your discontent.

“To dabble with creatures our Creator has made in all his wisdom is a Damnation-worthy sin-”

“Yeah, yeah, blah-dy-blah,” Hange laughs, not offended or even bothered, and waves her hand. She then turns back to her work, completely unconcerned about her soul.

“We do not believe in your Creator,” Armin explains gently. “His existence hasn’t been proven with science.”

“He knows better than to associate-“

“That’s enough preaching, little miss,” Levi cuts in and finishes his tea. You close your mouth, though unhappily so, and glance at Historia. She looks a little awkward and gives you a stiff smile.

“A-anyway, this is the Wing of Science,” she tells you. “Nothing of note here. Why don’t we go back to the Main Wing, it’s almost dinnertime?”

You nod and give the three scientists a small smile before heading for the door. Levi and Historia’s guard follow you out without a word.

So, they’ve decided to start experimenting with animals now that they’ve managed to augment humans successfully. The thought is disturbing to you, but for now, you have no choice but to remain silent.

Dinnertime is, as usual, quiet. You’re not very concerned with that, as you grew up having your meals alone with your mother. Sometimes, rarely, your brother would join you.

You look around the table subtly in between bites. Eren and you haven’t as much as spoken after your brief meeting. You ignore the way Zeke glances at you every now and then, and reply politely to the sparse questions from the Czar and Czarina.

“Your grace,” you start after a minute of silence, having thought of something. You look at Czar Yeager apprehensively, but he gives you a nothing but well-meaning smile.

“What is it?”

“Am I allowed to write home?”

Czar Yeager looks a bit stunned. Then, his face turns into an even wider smile.

“Of course you are, dear child. You’re not a prisoner, you’re a guest. I would not dare to keep a person from her family,” he tells you gently. You nod.

“Normally, our letters are delivered by carriages, but for quick and uninterrupted exchange of letters, hawks may be used. I’ll see to it that you’ll get a hawk of your own,” the Czar promises.

“Thank you, your grace.”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea?” Zeke asks and lazily points his fork at you. “If she has a hawk, she can send letters unsupervised. What if she discovers something sensitive and tells her father about it?”

“As a future member of our family, we need to place our trust in her,” the Czar replies steadily. He seems to be the only person in the room who has any faith in those words. You even see Eren’s guard uncomfortably shift her weight from one foot to another.

You glance at Eren, whose face is unreadable. He keeps eating calmly and seemingly has no temptation to look your way.

“I’m sure your parents will be happy if you write them,” the Czarina breaks the awkward silence and gives you a small smile.

“Without a doubt, your grace,” you reply and offer her that impersonal smile you’ve spent your whole life perfecting. You wonder if you should tell your mother and brother all that’s going on in the castle, especially how these people seem to have no sense of holiness or decency. The image of that mutilated rabbit flashes in your mind, and you have to set down your wine glass. It’s repugnant.

“I heard Historia showed you around the castle,” the Czarina keeps the idle chit-chat going. “How was it?”

“Rather interesting. I’m glad I know where the library is situated. I’m planning on visiting after dinner to get some books to read,” you reply.

“Ah, how lovely. I especially recommend _The Song of Steel_, our national epic. It depicts the history of our nation from thousands of years back to this day,” the Czar says. You nod and quietly decide to do as he says. Not only to have something to discuss with him but also to better understand their image of Novaryn. In a history book, surely there is a lot about the strained relations between your country and theirs.

You wonder what kind of literature they like in this country. You recall seeing many war novels in Eren’s room and alchemy books in the lab, but that’s all so far. You doubt you’ll find many religious texts or holy stories. It’s a shame, you used to consume quite a bit of those back home. Then again, this country is filled with people who have embraced Damnation. What use would they have for books about the Creator?

You briefly wonder about what you learnt. About alchemy, its use of chemicals and how Hange and the rest can handle them unharmed.

“Are there any books about alchemy I could read?” you ask. The Czar, who was in the middle of swallowing a bite, starts coughing.

“A-alchemy?” he asks, clearly astonished. “I didn’t think you’d have any interest in it.”

“That sure didn’t take long,” Zeke comments with a small smirk. Eren looks at you, for the first time during this dinner.

“Not to try anything myself. I’m just interested in the principles with which it works,” you explain awkwardly.

“You can find some basic information from the library, but I doubt there’s anything there you don’t already know,” Eren answers. “Any deeper knowledge is barred behind a test.”

“Test?” you tilt your head.

“A bar exam. Only those who pass it and are accepted to study alchemy gain access to those books. Things like the underlying physics, history of experimentation, rituals, they’re all restricted.”

It seems suspicious, but you take the knowledge with a calm nod.

“I see. So, not even you know how alchemy works exactly?”

Another awkward silence.

“Members of the royal family have access, as well as certain high-ranking military officials,” Czar Yeager explains. Unwillingly, your eyes flicker to Levi and Mikasa.

“Only four people in the military have access, and none of them is your guard,” Zeke reads your expression. You flinch and resist the urge to wince. Were you that obvious? Furthermore, you doubt Levi would spill military secrets to you even if he had access to them.

“But if you’re that interested in figuring out the secrets behind alchemy, you have a fool-proof way of getting that information,” Zeke continues with a hum. You eye him warily.

“Is that so?” you ask, voice neutral but hardly very enthusiastic. You’re always on high alert around Zeke, anyone would be after the encounter you had outside your room.

“Yeah. Just marry Eren as soon as possible and you’ll become a member of the royal family,” he announces with a shrug. Eren pauses to give his brother a glare. You see his guard stiffen just a little.

Well, he’s not wrong. You’ll become a member of the royal family once you marry Eren.

“I’m afraid it is not up to me when I marry him,” you remind Zeke calmly, never pausing your eating.

“Do you wish for it to be soon?” Zeke protrudes. You pause your fork halfway to your lips and wonder how to respond to that. If you seem too enthusiastic, you might come across as just wanting to snoop around the alchemy texts. If you say no, you’ll obviously seem rude.

“I wish to marry his grace when the timing is most optimal for both of our countries,“ you finally answer.

“What a diplomatic reply,” Zeke chuckles with a tone that’s openly quite patronising.

“Zeke,” the Czarina tries. “She’s just being mindful of-”

“I know,” Zeke cuts in, rather rudely at that. He gets up, leaving his half-finished meal.

“Reiner,” he calls to his guard and they walk to the door. Zeke pauses to give you one last look.

“That good girl act of yours will not carry you far,” he informs you dully. “If you want something, you’ll have to elbow your way to it.”

You meet his gaze serenely, not a muscle on your face twitches.

_Always remain calm._

_Keep your cards close to your chest._

_Conduct yourself with dignity._

Zeke is wrong if he thinks he can make you break the rules you were brought up by this easily.

“Thank you for your advice, your grace,” you respond. “I will take it to heart.”

Zeke rolls his eyes and leaves.

“Forgive him,” the Czar hurries to say. “He’s a very troubled boy.”

“It’s not an issue, your grace,” you respond with that well-mannered but hollow smile. “He was merely looking out for me.” A statement none of the people present believe, but you say it anyway, to be courteous.

After dinner, Levi takes you to the library. As you step through the doors and are greeted by the sight of the musty room, filled with books from floor to ceiling, with wooden shelves occupying every little inch of the walls, you instantly feel more at ease.

You look around the large space. The library is not as big as the one back home, but it’s still impressive by anyone’s standards. You can’t help the enamoured sigh you release. This is what you’ve been craving.

You walk right into the maze of stuffed shelves and cushy satin armchairs. Levi follows you quietly.

“Do you know where they keep the one the Czar mentioned?” you ask him. Levi shakes his head. With a sigh, you start sorting through the countless books in the hopes of finding it.

Every time you see an interesting-looking book, you take it out and hook it under your elbow. Then, when there’s too many to keep there, you balance them on the palm of your left hand. When it gets too heavy, you start piling them on your head as well and when they all finally clatter down with a loud noise, Levi steps in with an irritated sigh.

“Just pile them on that table,” he says and gestures towards an empty coffee table by one of the armchairs. You do as you’re told, and by the time you finally spot a large, ancient-looking book with leather covers and the golden words _The Song of Steel _embroidered on the spine, you already have an impressive collection of other books at the table.

You grab one of the steel ladders that are scattered here and there around the library and steady it against the shelf. The book is high up, almost at the ceiling. Not discouraged by the fact, you gather the hem of your dress in one hand and take support from the ladder with the other.

“Just let me do it. I don’t trust your balance,” Levi calls, but you ignore him. Your heels make climbing a bit more difficult, but you’re no stranger to ascending ladders to make your way to interesting-looking books in inconvenient places.

You make it up and grab the heavy book with both hands.

You did not count in the added weight of the book nor the fact that you’ll have to use both hands to hold it since it’s so large.

“Hey-!”

Levi doesn’t get any further. You take one, shaky step down and slip. The book falls to the floor with a heavy sound and you feel the ladder skipping backwards. You lose your footing and fall back with a surprised squeak.

Levi’s reflexes turn out to be top-notch. He snatches you without as much as making a sound, and when you open your tightly shut eyes, you meet his irked, unimpressed gaze. You’re locked in his arms, and he didn’t as much as topple back as he caught you.

“I told you to leave it to me to get the book,” Levi points out and places you back down. You’re no stranger to bodyguards touching you when they deem your safety compromised, but you still feel a little awkward about having Levi catch your whole weight like that.

“I didn’t think the book would be that heavy,” you defend yourself as you saunter to the book in question and pick it up. Thankfully, it didn’t get too battered in the collision.

“Thank you for catching me.”

“Don’t thank me for doing my job,” Levi disregards immediately and grabs the tall pile of books from the coffee table. “Do you think you can get started with these?” he asks dryly, sizing up the pile in his hands with his eyes. It reaches far above his head.

“You don’t have to carry them for me,” you hurry to say. Levi gives you a bland look.

“I don’t want to spend the rest of the evening following you back and forth as you carry these back to your room. So just let me carry them, little miss.”

“Do you have to call me little miss?” you ask with a sigh.

“You are a little miss,” Levi points out with a lazy hum. “Or would you prefer pipsqueak? Princess? Your excellency?”

“Nevermind. Forget I brought it up,” you give up instantly. You’ll put up with little miss until it’s time for Levi to leave. “But anytime you just feel like calling me Cora or Reader, feel free to.”

“That would indicate close relations or familiarity. I have no intention of achieving either,” Levi tells you bluntly. You open the library door and roll your eyes.

“Alright, then. But for the record, I will keep calling you Levi.”

“You’re royalty, I’m a soldier. You’re entitled to calling me whatever you want,” Levi replies, not bothered, as you start walking back.

In your room, Levi dumps the books on the floor in front of the bookshelf. You give him a disapproving look, treating your precious collection in such a crude manner, and start arranging them in the bookshelf.

Levi watches your work without a word, still adhering to the Czar’s orders to keep you company as much as possible. Thus, he doesn’t go stand outside.

You finish stocking the books and are just about to start wondering which one you’ll begin your reading quest with when Levi speaks up.

“Hey, what’s that?”

You turn to see he’s looking at your bed. On your recently dusted, puffy pillow, rests a letter.

“Did someone send me a letter?” you frown.

“The mail is delivered to the main hall, they wouldn’t just place it here. And a hawk wouldn’t be able to get in since the windows and doors were closed all day,” Levi points out. “It’s likely that someone within the castle brought it here while you were away.”

You walk to the sealed envelope cautiously. You take it and go to your desk to grab a letter knife. What is this, a love letter?

You turn out to be very, very far from the truth.

_Dear Princess,_ it starts.

_Do you know what fear feels like? Have you ever felt the dread of a knife on your neck or a gun to your head?_

_Does your rotten country relish in the blood of our kind? Do you enjoy when you sacrifice our children for the sake of your violent hypocrite of a Creator?_

_Worry not, our honoured guest. I will teach you._

_I will teach you what it feels like to have a blade pressed to your throat. Your pulse thundering in your ears, your eyes wide and begging as I cut into your skin. Just a little at first, making the tiniest nick, just a couple of pearls of your blood trickling down your neck. _

_You’ll feel a sense of hopefulness as you think that’s all I plan to do to you. Then, I cut the dagger in deeper, little by little. You’ll feel the blade slice through your meat, past your arteries and veins until I reach your lungs. You’ll make animalistic, gurgling noises as I puncture your lungs and your blood goes pouring in._

_You will feel your body hit the floor as you struggle to take a breath, to no avail. You’ll bleed out slowly onto your pretty little gown, eyes teary with fear as you know you will go straight to hell. Your Creator doesn’t take nicely to those who spread their legs to spawns of Damnation, after all._

_Don’t worry, dear princess. You won’t have to suffer in this castle for long. _

_I’m looking forward to slicing my blade into your elegant neck and ending your life. In my head, I can already see you shivering like a lost lamb. I’m sure you will taste delicious._

_With Love,  
Your Secret Admirer_

A thick cloud of shock settles over you as you read the letter. Once, then again and again. Each time your eyes slide over the graphic description of how you’ll be slaughtered, you feel the urge to place a hand on your throat.

You feel the tug of anxiety, tears welling in your eyes, but before you can spill them, you become hyperaware of Levi’s presence.

“What’s the letter about?” Levi asks.

You swallow thickly and make up your mind. You trust no one in this castle, and that includes Levi.

“It is from the czarevich. Its contents are between me and him,” you make up a lie. You force your face unreadable and fold the letter. You slip it in the drawer of your desk and sit down.

You feel Levi’s eyes on you, probably having caught something off with you, but you make yourself calm down and think it over.

What does the sender of this letter want?

Probably for you to freak out, you muse. You nod in agreement with yourself, deep in thought. You conclude that the best course of action is to not give the sender the satisfaction of knowing they have unsettled you.

You take out some parchment and a fountain pen. With steady hands, you dip it in the ink and start writing with ornate cursive. Mostly to keep your mind occupied through the shock and looming fear.

_Dear Mother and Brother,_

_How are you? It feels like it has been years since I last woke up to the sound of our monks’ morning chime and prayer. Life here is different. I miss the feeling of warm rays of sunshine on my skin as I bask outside, a book shielding my face from the bright daylight. I miss the taste of oatmeal cookies and redcurrant juice. I miss riding in the woods with Brother. I miss drinking afternoon tea with Mother and discussing the latest novels popular with ladies of the court._

You take a deep breath. You miss home. You miss your Mother and Sirius. You miss falling asleep to the crinkling of your fireplace, to your maids’ hushed whispers as they exchange gossip thinking you’re already asleep. The threatening letter is still fresh in your mind and it makes the castle around you seem colder and less safe.

Anyone here could be inches from sinking a blade in your throat. Even Levi.

Despite the crippling fear and sense of alienation, your hand is steady as you write out lie after lie.

_But, despite that, things are great here. I have been treated courteously by everyone. The Czar and Czarina are generous and good. The crown prince and his fiancée are both helpful and do their utmost to make me feel at ease. My guards and maids are warm and treat me with dignity. I expected to face a lot of scorn, but to my astonishment, everyone in this castle seems to want to make a good first impression and make me feel at home._

_My fiancé is also wonderful. (Brother, if you feel uncomfortable with such feminine gushing, feel free to skip this paragraph.) I think I am falling for him. He is handsome and every bit a gentleman. I feel like I can connect with him. We spend hours discussing everything, from literature to fashion to architecture. He wants to be a good husband to me, and he says he will place my safety and comfort as his utmost priority._

_There is no need to be worried about me, for I am fine, as much as I miss <strike>hom</strike> Novaryn._

_I’m aching to hear news from your side of things._

_Please write to me as soon as an opportunity arises,_

_Love Always,  
Cora_

You read over the letter. It’s convincing enough, you think.

You don’t notice the way Levi has moved to subtly stand behind you, nor the way he inconspicuously glances over the contents of the letter. The Czar might trust that you won’t babble anything sensitive, but Levi sure as hell doesn’t.

His expression shifts from wary to thoughtful as he reads over the blatant lies, but he says nothing as you roll up the letter and seal it shut with hot wax.

Then, you saunter to the balcony and sit down on the railing. Ever since you got to this castle, you’ve been spending hours of your evenings on the balcony, just idly staring out to the West.

And as always, Levi walks to the door to guard you. Whether it’s from outside forces or yourself, you haven’t figured out. Not that you particularly care.

A castle where you can trust no one and where someone is just aching to make a show out of violently massacring you. A castle where they openly defy the Creator by conducting dark magic in the form of alchemy. Such is your home for the rest of your life.

You have no allies and you know better than worrying your mother and brother. They can do very little aside from pestering your father about it, and you know he will not adhere to their demands of bringing you back.

But it’s alright. You will shoulder it all. Your life, your death, your marriage, your soul, your country. You will carry the responsibilities on your back and you will do so alone.

You wonder if the Creator has already forsaken you. If you get killed before the wedding, will your lifetime of obedient prayer save you from Damnation? Or has solely traversing here doomed you?

Knowing it will probably be in vain, you still place a gentle hand on your forehead, and another over your heart. You start murmuring a prayer under your breath. Not because you believe it will help, but because you don’t know what else to do to ease the ache in your chest.

Levi watches and says nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time, we have crazy scientist Hange, Levi still hating his babysitting duty and someone sending Reader a death threat. Lovely times!
> 
> In between the last chapter and this one, I did even more planning with this story, to the point where I have the first Arc (Chapters 1-15) kind of nailed down. I have left some space for the characters and story to breathe and live, so I haven't nailed down all the details and plot points, but I have the overall themes and storyline mostly planned out.
> 
> What do you think? Do you enjoy the worldbuilding, alchemy shenanigans and grumpy guard Levi? Do you think Reader should just shed her reservations and tell Levi about the letter? Let me know! I love comments and they always make me feel better. If you want to boost my confidence and motivation to write, please consider leaving a comment! ^^


	3. A Breeding Mare

_It’s dark. It’s cold. You can’t breathe. You try to scream as your eyes snap open. You feel restraints strapping you down to something cold and hard._

_Faces. Who are they? Why are they grinning like that? You’ve seen them before, but their names escape you now._

_“Don’t worry,” one of them soothes you. You feel a chilling, clammy hand on your face. “This won’t take long.”_

_You see one of them grab something sharp and lift your nightgown. You try to futilely kick him off, but your legs are tied down._

_No, not there. That’s not for them to see. That’s only for Levi._

_Levi?_

_You frown. Why Levi?_

_You have no time to think about it when you feel something digging into your stomach._

_“Don’t think too ill of us,” one of the people tells you. _

_“Maybe you should wake up now,” another adds, “before you forget how to.”_

You sit up with a loud gasp, skin prickling and fists clenching your crinkly clean sheets. It takes a moment for your surroundings to come back to you.

Your nightgown is sticking to your body with sweat. Another nightmare.

You’re not surprised when you feel a sharp pair of eyes on you. Levi must have arrived to stand guard before you woke up.

You glance at the drawer of your desk. That’s where the five letters you received this past week are situated, each one more provocative and graphic than the one before.

Whoever’s sending the letters is really trying to get under your skin. And succeeding, by the looks of it, because you’ve found it increasingly hard to sleep and your slumber has been plagued by frequent nightmares.

You look around your room, decisively keeping your eyes off Levi, for now. You don’t want him to see the unsettled hue in your eyes.

You took the Czarina up on her offer of modifying your room. There are a few tapestries on the wall, in non-controversial colours as you don’t want to upset your soon-to-be in-laws by choosing bronzes and blues.

The desk, bookshelf and bedside table are filled with books. You haven’t left your room outside of mealtimes (during which the letters arrive in your room). With each passing day, you get more and more paranoid.

As a result, you’ve stayed cooped up in your room. You lounge around sitting at your desk, lying on your bed, sitting on the balcony floor with your back resting against the railing. Levi stands guard inside the room in complete silence as you read your days away.

Romance novels, fantasy epics, dystopian horror, you read all you can and immerse yourself in stories of people far greater and braver than you, people who marry the person they love, who travel away from their home to bright and prosperous lands full of promises, people who face adversity head-on and fear nothing.

You wish you could be those people.

You haven’t started _Song of Steel_ yet. You’re trying your best to forget the nation you’re currently in.

A task much harder than usual when you dine thrice a day with the Czar and his family.

You move your covers aside and stand up. You finally turn your attention to Levi, who’s standing next to the door with that calm, unreadable expression of his. You meet his grey eyes and steel your own.

“I will go freshen up. If Maid Springer arrives while I’m bathing, tell her to change my linen,” you tell Levi. He nods and you can feel his eyes on you as you stagger towards the bathroom.

You close the door after yourself and pump out the bathwater. Back home, one of your maids would have prepared the water and helped you bathe but you insist on doing it alone here. The thought of having Maid Springer wash your naked body makes you uncomfortable.

Your nightgown falls to your feet with a quiet shuffle. You step out of it, discard your underwear, and pause when you see yourself in the reflection of the bathwater, clean and warm in the shiny porcelain bathtub.

You place a hand on your neck, slowly, as if in a trance, and try to imagine it. How it will feel when the person who sent you those letters finally gets to sink their blade into your skin.

You feel a shudder of cold. Pungent, bitter bile rises from your stomach and threatens to bubble into your mouth, but you quickly place a hand over your lips and take a deep breath to force it back down.

You need to stay calm. You know you won’t be able to think clearly if you freak out.

For now, you don’t know who you can trust. Even people like Czar Yeager and Historia, who have been pleasant to you, are not guaranteed to actually be on your side. And Levi…

You glance at the door. You can’t read him. He seems like the type to be open about his loyalties but on the other hand, how can you know for sure?

You slip into the water quietly and lean your cheek into your folded knees.

For now, your best option is to stay quiet and keep your eyes open. See what the sender will do next.

You bathe yourself to get rid of the sweat. You lather your skin with flower-scented soap and wash your hair with rosemary water. When you’re done, you dry yourself in a rough cotton cloth and crack the bathroom door open just a bit to call out.

“Levi, step outside for a moment, please. I’m indecent.”

You hear the door open and close and when you step out, you see Levi’s gone and Maid Springer is already waiting for you.

“Good morning, your grace,” Maid Springer greets you. Her grey dress and tight bun are as skilfully fastened as always and she looks as unenthusiastic as always about clothing you.

“Good morning,” you nod. She takes out some undergarments from the wardrobe, and you get dressed in silence.

Maid Springer always fastens your dress tighter than maids back home did. She always combs your hair just a bit rougher.

“I’ll clean your room while you eat breakfast, your grace,” she informs you as always. You nod wordlessly as she nimbly braids two strands of your hair on the front and ties them together to the back of your head.

You like the fact that she never asks you which style you’d like for the day. You never really cared all that much, and it sometimes irritated you when your maids back in Novaryn kept asking for your opinion.

Maid Springer curtseys at you as you finally step out fully clothed. You walk down the corridor towards the dining hall, Levi’s steady footsteps following you there.

The royal family is already sitting at the table, and you quickly curtsey at the Czar.

“Am I late? I’m sorry, your grace,” you wince, but the Czar excuses you with a friendly wave of his hand.

“Don’t worry,” he smiles. You sit down at your spot next to Eren and start picking at your breakfast. You’re not peckish at all, the nightmare is still fresh in your mind.

You wonder what the dream was trying to tell you. That you’re going to get augmented? Maybe it was a warning from your Creator to stay away from alchemy.

“Eren,” the Czarina breaks the silence. “Take Cora out to the city sometime.”

Her eyes are gentle but stern on her son. Eren blinks at her, clearly a little annoyed.

“Why should I?” he blurts before he can think it through.

“She’s your fiancée yet you’ve spent hardly any time with her. You should show her around the city, she hasn’t left the castle once since getting here.”

“I don’t need to spend time with her. I’ll just marry her at some point and that’s all I’m required to do,” Eren argues. You see Zeke’s eyes flash with amusement.

“Zeke takes Historia out to balls and parties, I think you should at least-”

“I have better things to do than taking some girl I hardly know out for shopping,” Eren snaps with a frown.

You know Eren isn’t fond of you and that the extent of his affections will be reluctantly tying the silken ribbon around your wrists on your wedding day. That doesn’t mean that the reminder of your to-be loveless marriage doesn’t make your mind a bit bluer.

You’re an unwanted intruder, so you had better get used to it, but it still stings.

The Czar must have caught the way you flinch just a bit and hurry to turn your eyes to your food, your head hanging just a little.

“You’re taking her out this Saturday,” Czar Yeager says, and it’s the first time you’ve heard any kind of authority in his voice. You raise your head and give him one of your hollow smiles.

“Your grace, it is alright, if the czarevich is busy then that can not be helped-”

“He’s not,” the Czar says decisively and gives Eren one, stern look. Eren, who has opened his mouth to protest, pauses and then mutters something to himself that sounds awfully much like _‘meddling old geezer’_.

You feel guilty then but say nothing. You focus on trying to finish your meal and keep the letters off your mind.

For a long moment, no one says anything. You eat in silence and ignore the way you can feel Zeke throw glances at you and the way Eren glares at both of his parents.

Just as you’re about to excuse yourself, the door to the hall slams open.

“Your grace! Good morning!”

Whoever’s at the door is instantly met with half a dozen rifles to their head as the personal guards of the royal family, Levi included, prepare for a potential threat. No one barges into the dining hall like that while the Czar is eating, it’s strictly against protocol.

You turn to see a tall girl. She’s wearing the military uniform and she pauses to blink in confusion when she’s met with a bunch of weapons aimed at her.

“You idiot, I told you not to barge in!” a boy with a buzzcut hurries in after her. He’s shorter than her, wearing a similar uniform, and he grabs the girl’s ponytail to wrench her head down into a bow.

“I’m sorry, your grace, she’s new and doesn’t know the etiquette yet!” the boy apologises on her behalf. As they bow down in front of the Czar, you see that on the back of their uniform is a symbol. It’s not the arsenic symbol on the back of Levi’s cape nor the triangle inside a circle the Wing of Science wears.

On their back is a simplistically drawn bird of some sort, and you instantly conclude these people must be messengers.

“Ah, Connie, good morning,” the Czar greets calmly and gestures for the guards to stand back. Levi lowers his weapon, but he still looks wary.

“We bring a letter from Novaryn, your grace, it has the royal stamp,” the girl announces loudly as soon as she straightens her back. She salutes. Connie smacks the back of her head.

“You’re not supposed to disclose that publicly, Sasha, you absolute moron,” he scolds with an incredulous hiss.

You look at the two with a confused blink. You’ve never seen the messengers and you always thought they give the Czar his mail when he’s in the privacy of his office or in the throne room.

Levi looks especially annoyed, probably because he’s a military supervisor. Such conduct must irk him.

“Who hired this bumbling idiot?” he asks Connie calmly.

“She has excellent instincts and she’s a very fast rider, she’s just oblivious to the etiquette inside the castle because she’s a peasant,” Connie explains with a wince.

You hum absent-mindedly and wonder if you should excuse yourself now. Before you can, however, the messenger girl called Sasha has shot to your seat.

“You must be the Novarynian. I have a letter for you,” she announces and hands you an envelope. From the handwriting, you can instantly tell it’s from your mother.

You take the letter and nod shortly as thanks. You don’t miss the way her hand subtly inches towards an uneaten loaf of bread on your plate, and the sight puzzles you.

“Are you hungry?” you ask, confused. Are regular soldiers starving because the war has taken all of their resources? Sasha instantly pulls her hand back and hurries to place it on her shoulder to salute.

“No, ma’am! I mean, yes ma’am, I am, but I know I’m not supposed to take your food!”

“You just tried to take it,” you point out, unimpressed, and Connie’s face pales. He hurries to grab her.

“My apologies, your grace!” he exclaims and smacks the back of her head again.

You look around the room, trying to decide how you should act in this situation. The Czar’s eyes are shining with quiet amusement as are Zeke’s. Historia and the Czarina look confused but not hostile. Eren and Levi are both frowning with annoyance, and the rest of the guards look wary.

You look at the tall girl, the way her eyes longingly flicker to your plate. You suddenly feel an odd kinship with her. Being new in the castle and having very little idea of how you’re supposed to survive here.

You calmly take the loaf of bread. You cut it open and slather the insides with some butter. You then put in some meat and cheese and finish it with a slice of tomato. A traditional Novarynian way to eat bread. Varsikovian people tend to eat theirs plain, you’ve noticed.

You hand the sandwich to the messenger girl.

“Here. Thanks for the letter, I’ve been waiting for my mother to write to me,” you explain and the smile you give her is not hollow and trained, it’s authentic.

Everyone watches, looking absolutely flabbergasted, but the girl’s eyes instantly widen and she snatches the sandwich.

“Thank you, your grace!“ she exclaims. “I will savour every bit of this bounty! My stomach will nurture this gift wholeheartedly!”

You snort a small laugh. What an odd girl. You like her.

The two quickly excuse themselves, and you can instantly tell that Levi will give them a piece of his mind if he ever catches them alone.

The Czar blinks at the two but says nothing to reprimand you for handing some of your food to Sasha. Instead, he opens the letter and skims over the contents. When he looks up, his expression is thoughtful and a little taken aback.

“It’s from the king,” he says, and his eyes stray to you.

You nod, not very interested, but when the Czar’s eyes remain on you, you give him a polite look.

“Is something the matter, your grace?”

“Well, no. It’s just that he, erm… Doesn’t mention you here at all. I was wondering if he’s written to you personally.”

You shake your head.

“You haven’t heard from your father ever since you got here?” he asks.

“No. How so, your grace? Are you worried I’m conversing with him behind your back? I can assure you I have not had any contact with him-”

“That’s not it,” the Czar hurries to deny it. He frowns and skims over the letter again. He now looks disapproving. You’re thoroughly confused.

“I think he’s just confused that your father isn’t interested in hearing how his daughter is doing when she’s been sent so far away,” the Czarina explains to you with a soft smile on her face.

“Oh,” you utter, not sure how to respond to that.

“What kind of person is your father anyway?” Eren asks and he looks just as taken aback. You didn’t realise it’s such a big deal that your father hasn’t asked about you.

“He is a good leader, I suppose,” you shrug.

“Not like that. I mean, in person. What’s he like?” Eren presses. He sounds curious. You look quite lost then.

“I… Do not know, your grace,” you admit. “I have never spoken to him.”

To you, it’s perfectly natural. He has thirteen daughters, you’re the youngest one from the least favoured wife. Of course, the King would have better things to do than getting involved with you. But from the reaction of everyone in the room, you can instantly tell they’re shocked.

Well, they’re monogamous. The Czar is very present in the life of his sons, to the point of dining with them daily. It must be odd to them, that you come from a large royal family where not knowing your immediate relatives is the norm.

“I- I see,” the Czar says after a prolonged, stunned silence.

“My mother is worried about me, though,” you add in a futile attempt to mend the awkward atmosphere. You show the letter. “And my older brother is as well. I’m not without support from my family.”

“How many siblings did you have again?” Zeke asks. His tone is lazy but there’s something twinkling in his eyes that promises nothing good. He’s caught something he can give you trouble for.

“Thirteen.”

“So, out of your fifteen close family members, only two give a damn about you,” he summarises ruthlessly.

“Zeke!” the Czarina gasps.

“What?” he challenges. “I’m just saying what we’re all thinking. How many wives does the king have again?”

“…Six,” you answer reluctantly.

“See, there’s your answer,” Zeke tells the Czar casually. “Her father hasn’t asked about her because her mother is nothing but a breeding mare, and she’s an unwanted spawn because she’s a girl.”

Everyone looks shocked, and the Czar shoots to his feet with the clear intention of lashing out at his son.

“That is enough,” you speak up before you can keep yourself in check. You face Zeke head-on, your eyes shooting daggers at him despite your calm and dignified tone.

“You may insult and belittle me all you want, your grace, but my mother deserves none of your misguided scorn.”

Zeke’s lips twist up to a smirk. He looks exhilarated by your response and you immediately realise you shouldn’t have responded in any way. He’s enjoying the fact he’s gotten under your skin.

“Loyal, calm, protective and willing to wag your tail for anyone. They trained you well. You were bred from a good bitch so I’m sure you’ll make a nice lapdog for Eren.“

Your hand closes into a fist. You want to punch him. You want to wipe that smirk from his face. How dare he insult your mother? How dare he insult your customs? He’s never seen the beauty of your homeland nor felt the gentle touch of your mother.

You shoot to your feet with the full intention of slapping Zeke.

From the corner of your eye, you see Levi’s hand leap to the handle of his sword and you’re not sure if he’s preparing to draw it to protect you from the aftermath of slapping the crown prince of Varsiko, or if he’s preparing to attack you with the rest of the guards who will without a doubt detain you the moment you lay your hands on Zeke.

Before you can go through with it, however, someone else has marched to Zeke and slapped him in your stead.

“Zeke Yeager!” the Czar’s voice thunders in the hall, loud and intimidating.

You realize it’s the Czar himself who has set his son straight. He looks legitimately angry and the tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Historia and the Czarina look shocked whereas Eren has an unreadable look on his face. You note he looks kind of approving. You briefly wonder if he approves of Zeke’s words or if it’s the Czar’s action of slapping him that made Eren look so content, but you don’t have much time to ponder upon it.

The room is quiet for a long while. You see soldiers marching past the large windows on their patrols, you see the guards keep their hands on the handles of their weapons. Zeke holds his burning cheek and his light eyes narrow.

For a split second, he looks enraged and dangerous, and you’re afraid he’ll hit his father right back. Then, his eyes turn to you.

“I got carried away. My apologies,” he says dully. He means none of it, you can tell, but the flare in your eyes dies nonetheless when you’re reminded of your position.

If you act up here, there’s no one who will step up to defend you. Zeke means more to this kingdom than you do. The anger is stifled and replaced with dull apathy.

“It is no issue, your grace. I was at fault for talking back to you,” you apologise.

Zeke eyes you quietly for a while and then gets up. He walks past you and as he does, you swear you can hear a quiet whisper.

“What a good girl. I see they taught you to roll over as well.”

You close your eyes briefly to hide the surge of anger that reignites inside you. When you open them again, Zeke has already passed to the door.

“Reiner,” he calls his guard and leaves. The door makes a loud sound behind him, and the dining room is dead quiet for a while.

“Goodness me,” the Czarina whispers and hurries to face you with large, apologetic eyes.

“I’m so sorry for his conduct. It was most uncalled for,” she tells you earnestly. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep your face from showing how upset you are.

“It is no issue, your grace. I’m sure his grace has a good reason for being so troubled.”

“It’s still no excuse to take it out on you. My deepest apologies, Cora. Try not to think too ill of him, he’s… Not fond of Novaryn for personal reasons,” the Czar explains.

“I see. This does not surprise me. Our nations have only recently achieved peace, after all,” you answer properly with that hollow smile.

“Please forgive him. I’ll have a chat with him later,” the Czar promises.

Eren has stayed quiet through the whole ordeal, and you give him a glance. You can’t tell what his sentiment is. Does he agree with Zeke or does he sympathise with you? He looks at you with narrowed, stormy eyes, but says nothing.

“Eren, take her out this Saturday. That’s an order,” the Czarina hurries to order him. Eren nods, albeit very reluctantly.

You clutch the letter in your hand and get on your feet. You curtsey at the rest of the royal family.

“I must be going now.”

Historia seems worried when she looks at your stony face, but she says nothing as you walk to the door and out of it.

You hear Levi’s familiar footsteps behind you as you walk back to your chambers.

You see Maid Springer is already done with cleaning your quarters by the time you get there. You walk in and flop down on your bed.

You’re aware that Levi’s standing guard by the door and thus, you can’t let the tears of frustration out just yet. You’ll have to wait until the nightfall.

You take a couple of deep breaths to steel your nerves and then sit up.

The anger is still there. How dare Zeke call your mother a bitch and you a lapdog? How dare he disrespect your mother that way when you’ve done nothing to agitate him?

But you know you need to play smarter than just punching him in the face. He’s egging you on purposefully. He wants you to fail. Maybe his hatred of Novaryn runs so deep he intends on smoking you out of the castle.

You grab a book from the bedside table and open it. Your eyes slide over the war novel, the fictional biography of a brave major who dies leading a siege against insurmountable odds.

Levi’s unreadable eyes stay on you, a fact that unnerves you.

“What, Levi?” you sigh after a few heavy minutes. You stop pretending like you’re reading the book. “If you want to scold me and preach to me about the importance of not losing your cool, get it over with.”

“No,” Levi replies steadily. “I was just thinking that you handled it well and that for such a spoiled little brat with no experience with politics, you’re dealing with all this better than expected.”

Your gaze is suspicious as you look at him, but he doesn’t seem to be lying.

“I wanted to sock the czarevich in the face,” you tell him honestly.

“I noticed. Not that I can blame you, he was out of line.”

“I saw you reaching for your sword. Were you prepared to defend me or to gang up on me with the other guards in case I went ahead and punched him?” you ask calmly.

“No one, aside from Reiner Braun, would have stepped in. I was preparing to deal with him,” Levi answers straightforwardly. “Not that I advise you to punch members of the royal family. It’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

Reiner Braun. Zeke’s guard, if you recall correctly. He’s a tall, sturdy guard with fair hair and a serious expression.

“You are oddly calm about the fact that I was about to punch your future Czar.”

Levi scoffs and walks to stand in front of you next to the bed. He crosses his arms and gives you a long, evaluating look as if measuring your trustworthiness.

“This is between you and me,” he says heavily, “but just because he’s my future Czar doesn’t mean I have to think he’s a good person.”

You’re surprised at his openness.

“So, are you saying you would have fought Reiner Braun had I gone through with punching him?”

“Why is that so weird to you?” Levi asks coolly.

“You are a Varsikovian, I’m a Novarynian. And by the looks of it, you have spent a lot of time fighting my kind.”

You’re nonchalant, but there’s a small twinge to your voice that reveals how alone you are. How insecure you are, how cornered and lonely and hopeless this environment makes you feel.

Levi sighs and squats down in front of you so he can properly meet your eyes.

“My job is guarding you, little miss, not participating in the Czarevich’s childish harassment campaign of you.”

You look at him warily from under your brows. You feel a sudden urge to tell him about the letters but decide against it. Levi could be lying. You can’t trust him. At least not yet.

You give him that well-trained, empty smile.

His eyes turn a little harder and his mouth pulls to an unhappy line as he stands back up and walks to the door.

“Are you planning on reading here until lunchtime?” he asks. You wonder why Levi suddenly turned colder but think nothing much of it. He’s always cold towards you.

“I guess so.“

“You are allowed to do things outside you know,” Levi starts awkwardly. “Why don’t you go out today?”

You instantly narrow your eyes. It’s not like him to comment on your activities.

“The Czar has told you to drag me out and do something other than reading,” you instantly read him. He doesn’t see the merit in trying to deny it, so he merely nods.

“He told me to take you out riding before I started my shift this morning,” Levi admits with a sour face. You tilt your head.

“Riding? I have a horse?”

“You were appointed one.”

“I cannot ride.”

“What kind of royal can’t ride a horse?” Levi asks.

“Levi, you just learned that I was not important enough to even have a single conversation with my father, what makes you think they thought wasting resources on teaching me how to ride was a worthwhile endeavour? I have spent most of my life reading books and drinking tea with my mother,” you inform him, unimpressed. Your brother walked you around on his horse a few times when you were a baby but in Novaryn, riding is something only soldiers know how to do.

You, like the rest of your sisters, were hauled around in carriages.

You think it over. You don’t know how to ride, but you’d like to know. If you’ve been appointed a horse, you’d at least like to see it.

“Alright. Let us go to the stables,” you decide and dive your hand inside the folds of your dress to take out the letter you got at breakfast. You place it on the desk to wait for the evening. You want to fall asleep to your mother’s words.

As you step out, you see Zeke. He’s leaning against the hallway wall a few meters away. Instantly, the hair on the back of your neck stands up and you stop dead in your tracks.

You trust no one in this castle, but when it comes to who you trust the least, Zeke easily takes the cake.

“Your grace,” you greet tensely. You see Levi’s hand place on the handle of his rifle. Zeke’s guard mirrors the movement and for a second the two stare each other down.

“My father sent me here to apologise,” Zeke informs you lightly.

You meet his eyes, calm and collected. You were close to punching him in the dining hall but now, you’re well aware of your circumstances again and know better than getting agitated.

“There is no need to apologise, your grace,” you tell him with your trained smile.

“You don’t really think that,” Zeke says easily and walks up to you. “I’m not blind. You were just aching to sock me in the face.”

You stay quiet and meet his intrusive gaze calmly. You refuse to cower.

“If I were you, I would hurry up my wedding with Eren as much as possible,” Zeke tells you nonchalantly.

“And why is that, your grace?”

“Once the battling reignites, it might just be the only thing that can keep you alive,” he informs you. You frown lightly.

“You seem very convinced that the battling will resume,” you point out.

“A century of warfare can’t be overwritten with these measures,” Zeke answers, his voice absolute. He looks at you, and his eyes flash behind his round glasses.

“I feel sorry for you,” he tells you and reaches a hand to gently grab a lock of your hair that has escaped the braids Maid Springer weaved this morning. You tense at the touch and feel a strong urge to move away, one that you forcefully push down.

“An eager little lapdog who’s only been trained to wag her tail and roll over obediently. You stand no chance here.”

You see his eyes flicker to your throat, and you narrow your eyes. Now that you think about it, he was very preoccupied with your neck the last time you were alone.

If he’s behind the letters, that would make a lot of sense. But it also tells you nothing of importance. What you need to know is what the sender is after.

Though, you wouldn’t put it past someone like Zeke to send those letters just because he likes to imagine you trembling in fear.

“As a loyal lapdog, I shall gladly give my life and soul for my master,” you reply steadily. “If you think you can unsettle me with tales of my impending doom, I advise you to find a more worthwhile pastime.”

In a split second, Zeke’s expression changes and he looks dangerous. His eyes darken, his hand moves fast to grab your hair and yank your head back.

“We’ll see how brave you are when things go south, pet,” he hisses into your ear. You wince, your head pulled back and neck exposed to him.

“Let go.”

Levi’s order is resolute and steady, and when you look to the side you see he’s drawn his sword.

Zeke smirks and shoves you away just as suddenly as he grabbed you. You stumble back into Levi, and he easily catches you and moves you behind him.

“A guard dog and a lap dog. You make a good pair,” Zeke observes with a chuckle. He then shrugs. “I shouldn’t be too surprised, given that you’re augmented.”

“Whatever do you mean?” you ask with narrowed eyes. Zeke smirks and steps closer, just to be cut off by Levi moving between you.

“I could tell you, but where’s the fun in that? You’ll find out sooner or later. This will be exciting,” he hums. He gives Levi a small grin and turns to walk off.

“I’ll see you around, pet.”

Reiner gives Levi a tense look but follows Zeke without a word. Levi’s eyes stay on their backs and only after they’ve been out of sight for a dozen seconds does he sheathe his sword.

You mull over Zeke’s words but ultimately decide to disregard them. If he’s truly behind the letters, then he’s probably just trying to unsettle you as much as possible.

“Let us get to the stables,” you tell Levi lightly and start walking off as if nothing happened.

A silence falls between you, broken only by the clacking of your heels and the sound of his boots.

“Thank you,” you finally say. “For stepping in and getting him off me.”

“Don’t thank me for doing my job,” comes the expected reply.

Maybe one of these days, you’ll learn to trust Levi. But that day is not yet.

Despite that, even the simple step makes you feel less alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting pretty tense around here if I say so myself.
> 
> But at least Reader is communicating with Levi more so there's that ^^;
> 
> Sorry I took a while with the update, I try to make the chapters for this fic a bit longer than they are in my other multi-chapters (I aim for 5,000+ words per chapter) so these take a bit longer to write out!
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts! Do we like protective yet grumpy guard Levi? Do we like closed off lone wolf Reader who tries to shoulder everything by herself? Do we trust anyone in this castle? Let me know!
> 
> Until next time! ^^


	4. Czar's Orders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: To make the descriptions of geography at the beginning of this chapter easier to grasp, I went ahead and made a simple map to illustrate where the nations and cities in question are situated.  


  


The marketplace is lively around you as you walk along the sturdy, tiled roads. The wide walkway is filled with merchants and townspeople, all engaged with their everyday businesses. You hear the sounds of bargaining, arguing, gossiping, bickering.

Ordinary people doing ordinary things.

It’s equal parts wondrous and relaxing to know that no matter where you go, the mundanity of life never ceases.

You take in the sights and sounds with a small smile. The soot-covered blacksmith standing by his shop, hammering down a scorching hot lump of iron. The farmers, minding their wooden stalls with carrots, potatoes and cauliflower lined up. The small, square-shaped and efficiently tiled buildings with little boutiques, some selling clothes, some remedies, some a random assortment of this and that.

The architecture lacks the history and unorganised mien you’re so used to, with buildings of varying ages and conditions being scattered around the landscape. Rekanon has constantly been rebuilt thanks to a steady stream of attacks from Novaryn, and the buildings are all very efficiently structured, most carrying the same shape and being made of large tiles and steel roofs.

There are more heavily smoking chimneys, more industrial sounds and a lot of people doing their everyday chores in military outfits. It takes a while to get used to but you find yourself strangely drawn into their no-nonsense approach to infrastructure.

You breathe in the smell of freshly caught fish as you saunter past the stalls near the docks and the ocean. Exotic-looking fish are lined up on display, sold by stoic-looking seamen next to their large steel ships.

You notice that the goods are different here than they are in Novaryn. Novarynian bounties that you used to enjoy were mostly sweet fruits and berries from the soft fields, freshwater fish from the Mantern River and fragrant flowers from the Twin Mountains. What Varsiko yields is much more earthy, from harsher lands and colder climates.

Then again, Novaryn is so large that it probably grows every plant on Earth somewhere on its lands, but where you used to live, in West Novaryn, in the secluded castle near Genesia City, your prosperous capital, is in the midst of the temperate climate zone.

Varsiko does have access to the sea, catching fish and seafood that’s foreign to you. Even though Novaryn is large enough to border the sea as well, the castle is so far from seawater that the species of fish now on display all look new and exciting.

Rekanon, the city the royal family lives in as well as the capital of Varsiko, is situated at a strategically important point, where the Mantern River crosses into Mortis Sea. This gives them sound import and export routes to meet their ever-growing need for metal and wood.

It’s close to the borders of East Novaryn as well, the landmass North of Varsiko and next to West Novaryn. The East and West are separated by Mantern River, the very same river you crossed to get to Varsiko from Genesia City, your home.

Well, at least it used to be your home.

Now, however…

You turn to give Eren a somewhat forced smile. He’s walking next to you, face tense and a little ill-tempered. He doesn’t look around but keeps his eyes straight ahead. He walks briskly, clearly intent on getting you through the sights as soon as possible so he can get back to the castle and be rid of you.

Behind you walk Levi and Eren’s guard. Quiet and stoic as always, it only now strikes you that the two are very alike in some ways. Then again, all the guards you’ve encountered are stiff and serious.

Only the presence of the guards gives away that you’re anyone important. Eren is wearing his usual, simple coordination of a cotton shirt, simple, brown pants and leather boots. There’s no crown or royal insignia on him to indicate his status.

You, on the other hand, asked Maid Springer to bring you a simple, knee-length dress. You instructed her to weave your hair in an ordinary bun. You look like a nobody. The only thing that can give you away is your posh accent.

It’s obvious Eren doesn’t come down to meet the peasants often, as no one recognises him. He seems to prefer it that way as well.

You march past the city square. You’ve kept up with Eren diligently thus far, but when you see the large, tiled space, you can’t help but pause.

The city square is where most events take place. It’s where Darius Zackly, Admiral of the Varsikovian army, keeps his passionate, patriotic speeches to rally the citizens into devoting even more of their lives and resources to warfare.

In the middle of the square, there is a large iron statue. The middle-aged man in the statue is plump, with a wide smile on his face and a bushy beard covering his sturdy chin. He’s wearing a military outfit with a long cape, fastened in place with a pin, carved to which is the Varsikovian symbol that’s also depicted on their flag.

Next to him is another statue, this one depicts a young woman with short, jagged hair and hopeful, wide eyes. Wearing simple, flowy ropes and a heavy-looking pendant, she has one hand raised towards the sky, another clutching a ragged flag. On the pendant is a symbol, a triangle inside a circle, the same symbol tattooed on the back of Levi’s hand.

You’ve started reading _Song of Steel_ this week in your plentiful idle moments, and thanks to that, you can name these two people.

The man is Nimbus Zackly, Darius Zackly’s grandfather, the former head of the Varsikovian army and the person who led the siege of Lienov against Novaryn 73 years ago and in the process, managed to keep Varsiko from being annexed into Novaryn, even if only by a hair.

Even back in Novaryn, you heard his name once or twice. Though, in your tales, he was portrayed as a ruthless monster. He drove the Novarynian forces back from Varsiko’s ports, but he also pushed them back enough to take control of the city of Sorn, a small farming community in East Novaryn.

With his blessing, Varsikovian soldiers pillaged the whole place and set it on fire. 4,000 people, almost 70 percent of the total population of Sorn, lost their lives, and the majority of the rest were young women who were kidnapped and assumedly tortured and soiled in the hands of Varsikovian men, as they were never heard from again. To Novaryn, Nimbus Zackly is a monster.

Yet in Varsiko, he’s a hero worthy of a statue.

The woman next to him is Ymir Fritz, a well-known alchemist and the founder of the Wing of Science. She came up with the blueprints of weapon enhancements and successfully carried out the first transmutations for the army close to a century ago.

The square is filled with people standing around and casually chatting amongst each other. No stalls or merchants are allowed here, but that doesn’t stop housewives from gathering together and gossiping nor children running around and tossing pebbles into the large fountain that’s steadily flowing at the sidelines.

The final thing that catches your attention is a large steel structure at the front of the square. It looks like a stage.

“Is that where the Admiral delivers his speeches?” you turn to ask Eren, but he’s already way ahead of you. He hasn’t even noticed you’re lagging behind.

His guard is following him quietly, and you look at their distancing backs. Behind you, Levi is standing guard. You turn to him for an answer.

“Yeah. This is also where the public executions take place,“ Levi replies nonchalantly. He’s dressed as usual, with the red cape hanging from his shoulders and his weapons on clear display, warning off any potential aggravators.

You hum and turn to walk away, and only after you’ve taken a couple of steps do Levi’s words sink in.

“Executions?!” you yelp and turn to gape at him with wide eyes. “You execute people publicly?!”

“Not everyone, just the worst offenders,” Levi shrugs.

You’re dumbfounded for a precious moment. It’s not that you don’t have the death penalty in Novaryn, it’s just that they’re carried out privately. Making a public spectacle out of someone meeting the Creator is barbaric to you.

Before you can express your outrage, however, Eren has noticed you’re missing and marched back to you. He grabs your arm impatiently, a fact that makes Levi jolt on instinct.

“Come on,” he sighs. “We’re almost done with the tour.”

You tear your eyes away from the steel structure and follow Eren out of the city square. In all honesty, you’d love to walk slower, take your time looking around, maybe visit some shops to use some of the gold Czar Yeager insisted on giving you this morning.

But Eren doesn’t look interested in doing this. If anything, you seem like the last thing he wants to spend his time on.

Despite that, you give him a polite curtsey and follow him back towards where you started your brisk tour.

“Do you not enjoy the city, your grace?” you attempt a conversation. Eren shrugs.

“Not this part of it.”

“Then, which parts do you enjoy?” you ask curiously. Eren gives you a wary glance and finally gestures towards the military base.

The Wing of Science and Wing of Royal Affairs are based in the castle, but the Wing of Offence and Wing of Defence are located in the military headquarters, a large structure located near the castle. It looks exceptionally uninviting with its rectangle shape and lack of anything ornamental, save for two Varsikovian flags flapping at each side of it.

It’s heavily guarded and a tall wall surrounds the whole structure. A constant stream of carriages moves towards and from the metal gates, pulled by small and sturdy Mongol horses that you’ve seen around Varsiko a lot.

You raise an eyebrow. Now that you mention it, the time you went to Eren’s room, it was filled with war novels.

“You are interested in the military, your grace?” you ask quizzically. He shrugs tersely.

“I might have to lead an army one day,” he says. You clearly see he’s not planning on entrusting you with the whole picture, but something makes him interested in the military.

“I would ask you to show me around the base, but I believe I’m not allowed in.”

“You’re not,” Eren confirms. “At least without confirmation from my father or Zeke.”

You pause to think when Zeke’s name is mentioned. You wonder if he’s close to Eren at all. During meals, they seem to have neutral relations.

If Zeke is the one behind the letters, which are still coming in on the daily, is Eren aware of that?

You can’t trust Eren, but you wonder how much he knows about what’s going on in the castle. He seems like a rather simple czarevich. Eager to dash out to war for what you assume is blood and glory.

“Your brother,” you start carefully. “Are you two close?”

Eren stops walking abruptly. He gives you a long, obviously suspicious look. The girl who works as his guard looks tense as well. The atmosphere gets suddenly very unsettling. Only Levi is taking it easy, he takes the opportunity to lean against a stone fence and start digging out dirt from under his nails.

“What’s it to you?” Eren asks, obviously on the defensive. You don’t know if he’s annoyed because you’re prying to his private life or because you’re asking about Zeke specifically.

Either way, you need to tread carefully.

“I was just curious,” you say, trying to sound as unengaged as possible.

“Why?”

“It is hard not to wonder about your brother, given his unfavourable attitude towards me,” you shrug. Eren gives you a long look. Then, he relaxes a little and turns his eyes back to the tiled road ahead. He resumes walking.

“Can you blame him?” he asks nonchalantly. You blink.

“Well, I assume it is rather common for Varsikovians to not be too fond of Novaryn, but I do not see why he would carry such a personal grudge.”

Eren stops dead in his tracks and turns to give you a disbelieving stare. He’s not the only one, his guard and even Levi look genuinely surprised.

“So, you don’t know why Zeke hates you so much?” Eren slowly asks. You shake your head. Eren’s gape quickly turns into a dismissive scowl.

“You really are clueless, huh,” he snorts. “You don’t seem to know anything that’s been going on beyond your castle’s grounds for a century.”

You swallow and your eyes flicker down. He’s right, of course. You were never taught anything about warfare or contemporary politics. You only know of the war in the form of a few legendary tales and fleeting gossip from your maids.

Eren shakes his head with a sigh.

“I don’t hate you,” he then adds to soothe the sting. “I’m not ecstatic about marrying you, but I don’t hate you.”

You raise your gaze to look at his bothered face. You’re standing in the middle of the road, townspeople walking past without bothering to listen what you’re talking about. They’ve got more interesting things to mind.

Eren doesn’t seem to be lying, and you nod meekly.

“I was not taught these things,” you tell him quietly. “I want to know things, but I don’t know where to start.”

“I’m not going to be your teacher,” Eren immediately declines. “The only reason I’m taking you out right now is that my dad demanded I do. I don’t hate you, but don’t expect me to spend time with you,” Eren explains. He has a somewhat frustrated frown on his face, he doesn’t want to be in this situation either.

“Then, who could I turn to?” you ask quietly. You don’t want to remain clueless forever. It’s just that you have no allies in the castle. Eren shrugs.

“Don’t ask me. And don’t count on me taking you out again. Here,” he takes a small, purple necklace from his pocket. The amethyst is tied in place with a simple leather string.

“My dad told me to give you something,” he explains and wrinkles his nose at the necklace. It’s clear he picked it out himself. If it was the Czar himself or one of the maids, it would without a doubt be much more elaborate.

You take the necklace and curtsey properly.

“Thank you, your grace.” You give him that trained smile. You’re just about to ask Eren to tie it around your neck for you, a gesture customary in Novaryn, but before you get the chance, he’s already turned to stride down the grey, tiled road that takes him back to the carriage that’s waiting for your return.

You think it over for a second before calling after him.

“Your grace!”

Eren turns to give you an impatient look. He’s clearly aching to get out of here.

“I would like to look around a bit more. Do you mind if I stay? I can walk back to the castle.”

You want to get to know the city a bit better than this, but you don’t want to drag poor Eren with you on a forceful date.

Eren shrugs, uninterested.

“Do as you like.”

You give him your trained smile.

“I’ll tell them to send another carriage to wait for you,” he says, even a little happy to be rid of you so soon. You wonder if he’s got some other plans for today or if he just dislikes pretending to be lovers that much.

You nod and curtsey.

“I’ll see you at dinner, your grace,” you say and after he’s out of sight, you turn to Levi.

“Sorry. Seems like your duty continues,” you hum. Levi gives you a bland stare.

“Beats standing next to your door and watching you read,” he bluntly states.

You look over the necklace Eren gave you. It’s rough around the edges, so to speak, but the gesture is nice. Even if it was obviously forced. You hand the necklace to Levi with a small smile.

“Could you help this on me?” you ask. Levi blinks at you. The request clearly annoys him a little, but despite that he shrugs and grabs the leather string.

He easily slips it around your neck, and his fingers work surprisingly nimbly as he ties the string at the back. You feel a small shiver of goosebumps when the tips of his fingers brush against the delicate skin on the nape of your neck. You were always very sensitive on your neck.

“Thank you.” You give him a half-hearted smile and let your fingers run over the rough texture of the stone once to get used to the feeling.

You then turn back towards the city and start walking down the streets. You grasp the hem of your dress to keep it from getting dirty and move through the crowd as confidently as possible.

It’s exciting. You’ve visited Genesia’s busy central once or twice with your mother, but it wasn’t a luxury that was bestowed upon you often. Now, you have a whole city within your fingertips. You doubt the Czar has anything against you being here, given that you’re adequately disguised and accompanied by a guard.

You walk back down the main road, only this time you take your time looking around. At times, you stray away to the small alleyways that have the more obscure shops and smaller taverns.

Levi keeps close to you without a word. He doesn’t seem too worried about being out in the open like this, so you dare to relax.

You walk past the stores, visiting a few of them as you do. You buy a pair of riding boots and a romance novel for your vacant nights. You enjoy the fresh portside air and the bustling of people around you. Growing up in isolation and being left to your own devices, it feels good to blend into the masses and pretend you’re an ordinary human for once.

You’re just about to set course to the tiled road leading to your rendezvous with the carriage when something catches your eyes through a display window of a small general store.

You see clothes, books, jewellery and furniture inside, scattered around just where they happen to fit in a homely, unorganised way.

Inside, you see an elderly man leaning against the counter. He’s wearing very plain clothes and seeing how the store is empty and everyone else just walks right past the venue, you conclude his business must not be booming. When he notices your interested gaze, he smiles and tips his flaccid and worn-out hat to greet you.

Where your eyes have landed is on a small folding knife. You can see it inside through the display, window tossed on one of the shelves behind the counter, in between a small kettle and a silver tray. It has a simple, polished wooden handle. The blade inside doesn’t seem to be large. It would be easy to hide in your robes and keep at hand.

Just in case.

The graphic descriptions from the latest letter flash in your mind. You try your best to keep them out of your head, but it can be challenging at times. The contents of the letters are always very similar, they depict your death in the hands of the sender.

Sometimes, they go straight to the point and explain in great detail how a blade is going to saw into your flesh, sever your arteries and make you bleed out in a matter of seconds.

Sometimes, they’re more in-depth and contain a prolonged description of certain kinds of torture. Carving _Varsiko_ on your stomach with a surgeon’s knife, digging out your eyeball, cutting off your ear, the fantasies are endless and convey a chilling lust for blood and humiliation.

They also have a very unnerving undertone of lust. Your neck seems to be of special interest to whoever’s behind the letters, and once the letter has mentioned strangling you instead of cutting your throat. The way the sender talks about killing you almost sounds like it’s arousing him.

In either case, having a knife at hand could be a good thing. In case this isn’t just idle threats after all, and someone will eventually try to attack you.

You glance at Levi, who’s standing next to you with a disengaged look on his face. So far, he’s done a good job protecting you. But you can’t really trust him. With a snap of his fingers, the Czar could turn his blade against you. You will need something to fend for yourself.

The question remains, how do you buy the knife without Levi noticing? Surely he will get suspicious if you walk in and buy a stealthy weapon. You don’t want him suspecting that you’re up to something bad.

You think it over for a moment and then turn to Levi.

“Levi, I would like you to stand guard outside while I go in,” you start carefully.

“Why?” Levi gives you an inquisitive side-eye.

“I- I would like to buy something private from the store.”

Levi crosses his arms, not impressed.

“Such as?”

“U-undergarments,” you make up quickly. Through the display window, Levi glances at the insides of the shop and draws up an eyebrow.

“Seems like an unlikely place to buy undergarments, from a general store and an old geezer like him.”

“I see a brassier corset in there that I like, okay? And I do not want you watching me while I buy it, so turn your back,” you order stubbornly. Levi looks at you for a long time and then shrugs.

“Whatever you say, little miss. I wouldn’t trust the hygiene of anything coming out of that dustbin of a store, though,” he points out but turns his back to the store nonetheless.

You let out a relieved breath and nod to yourself. You walk to the store and yank the door open.

The bell above the door makes a small jingling sound, and the older man behind the counter gives you a warm smile.

The creases around his mouth and friendly wrinkles that appear in the corner of his eyes with his smile set you at ease. His hand shakes just the tiniest bit with age as he gestures for you to come in further.

“Please come in, my dear, look around,” he says with a heartfelt tone. You look around the stuffed store, the liberally filled shelves, the worn-out furniture sitting in the corner, the few racks of clothes you claimed to Levi you’re interested in.

You stop in front of the counter and give the man a nervous smile.

“I would like to see that knife over there,” you say and point towards the folding knife. The man turns to see, and a look of confusion creeps to his face.

“This old knife, miss?”

“Yes. Please,” you add. He takes the knife and shows it to you.

“Are you sure you want this one? We have bigger blades right here,” he gestures to a small barrel next to the counter, filled with an assortment of old-looking swords and daggers. You shake your head.

“This one will fare just fine.”

The man shrugs.

“Seven polas.”

You take out the small pouch of coins from the folds of your dress and hand it to the man.

“If you could count the money yourself, I would be most grateful. I still struggle a bit with recognising the different coins. Pola is the medium silver coin, right?”

The man takes the money and pauses. He frowns to himself, a little confused, but opens the pouch nonetheless.

“I thought your accent sounded weird, miss,” he converses casually. He gives you a small smile. “Not a lot of foreigners in these lands. Never met one myself. They don’t usually permit them outsiders further than the ports. Imports are received at the docks and the merchants are sent back the way they came.”

He looks well-meaning and curious as he counts the money.

“May I ask where you’re from, miss?”

You freeze then. Should you lie? Make up something? Tell the truth?

You look at his twinkling, sweet eyes and find yourself entrusting him with the truth. You’ve got Levi in case he takes things badly.

“Between you and me, sir, I’m a Novarynian.”

Immediately, the man’s smile freezes on his worn-out features. The pouch of coins falls on the desk with a loud thump. He gives you a wide-eyed stare.

“You’re the Novarynian princess they talked so much about some time ago?” he asks. You try to gauge his expression, but it’s hard. He looks shocked, but you’re not sure what kind of shock it is.

“A princess? What makes you say that?” you chuckle awkwardly. You try not to avoid his eyes so you don’t appear defensive.

“They haven’t allowed a Novarynian through those ports for a century unless they’re in shackles and on their way to the factories. The only Novarynian who would be roaming free like this would be the princess. Unless you’re a stowaway.”

Maybe you should have pretended you’re from somewhere else. But it’s too late to back down now. You give him a small, nervous smile.

“You caught me. I’m that princess,” you admit.

You see something flash in the man’s eyes, a longing long since stifled. Suddenly, he looks crushed and sad. Obviously, some kind of memories are flooding back to him.

The moment is fleeting. In a second, he turns angry.

“In that case, I have no business to do with you. Take your money and leave,” he announces. His tone and face are seeping unyielding cold. You blink at him.

So, he has a grudge against Novaryn. And by extension, you. Just like Zeke. And just like Zeke, you don’t know the exact reason why.

“Sir,” you start. You could leave, but you’re suddenly curious to hear why he’s so angry.

It’s as Eren said, you know nothing of Varsiko besides the shallow introduction to culture and customs you studied before coming here. You know nothing of the struggles of the common folk. And you want to understand. This is your new home after all.

“I understand that there is a lot animosity between Novaryn and Varsiko, but I’m here to help to build peace. I want to help Varsiko,” you try to reassure him.

Immediately, you realise you shouldn’t have. He grits his teeth together, his eyes fill with tears and he yanks you in by the front of your dress.

“Help us? Don’t make me laugh,” he hisses. “Your rotten country has never brought us anything but war and suffering. If you ask me, I want no peace with your kind. What I want is to see every one of you disappear.”

“Sir, I understand you are angry, but you must understand that I’m not here to bring you grief-“

“Your kind never brings us anything but grief!” the man shouts.

“Sir, please calm down-!”

You shouldn’t have said that. Instantly, he grabs a dull-looking sword from the barrel next to the counter and grabs your hair to pull you in over the counter. You feel the jagged edge press against your neck.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” he yells. Tears are streaming down his face as he looks at you. He sounds angry, but his expression is that of grief and devastation. This is someone who has lost something very dear to him.

“Maurice, dear, what is- Oh my goodness! What are you doing to the poor girl?!”

You look to the side to see an older woman standing in the doorway of what you assume leads to the backroom of the store. Her grey hair is pulled to a ponytail and she’s carrying a box of what looks like various, old-looking toys.

She drops the box and hurries over with wide eyes. You wince a little where you are, pulled over the counter by your hair with a sword pressed to your neck.

“Stand back, dear, she’s that cursed princess they mentioned, the one they’re planning to marry to the younger Yeager boy. She was trying to buy a knife, who knows what she was planning to do with it.”

Immediately, a look of shock dawns on the woman’s face. Then, instead of anger, she turns hopeful.

“Let her go, Maurice, maybe she can help us,” she pleads. She walks to you and grasps your arm with a begging look.

“Miss, you’re a princess, there must be something you can do. Our daughter, Belle, she moved to Birnek close to the border to be with her sweetheart. She went missing two years ago after a group of Novarynians ransacked the city. Maybe you can help us find her?”

You give her a helpless look. The blade is still pressed against your neck, though the man’s hand is shaking a bit where he’s holding you.

You hear the door open and close, and you don’t have to turn to see that Levi’s walked in. The way the man flinches, his eyes widening, gives it away.

“I’ll give you three seconds to let go,” you hear Levi’s voice from somewhere behind you. The woman looks scared but keeps clinging to your arm. Her face is desperate, tears brimming in her small, blue eyes.

“Our daughter, Belle. Belle Lindt. She was a good child, she would be 24 years old now. Long, brown hair, blue-grey eyes. She has a beauty mark under her eye. You can help us find her, right? Please, miss,” she breathes.

“I…” you trail off. You don’t know what to say. Obviously, there’s no way for you to find one girl who went missing years ago. Your brother wouldn’t know where she is. You have no authority over anyone in the army. She was most likely taken a prisoner or killed.

“Forget it, Gloria, she’s not going to help us,” the man cuts in. “She doesn’t care. Rotten, like the rest of her country. Doesn’t care who she hurts.”

“Are you deaf, old man? Let go,” Levi orders again. You can’t see him since he’s behind you, but you can tell from his voice that he’s getting irritated.

“And you, protecting an enemy! Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” the man exclaims at Levi. The tears are now streaming down his face. He leans in with a sniffle and you can see the heartbreak in his eyes.

“I don’t care who you are, miss. I don’t care if you’re a princess or what, but my daughter did not deserve what your country did to her. Wherever she is, she must be suffering and this… Pitiful excuse of amendments from your country doesn’t come even close to being enough. Our wounds can never be healed. You are not welcome here.”

With that, he finally pulls his weapon back and turns away. He wipes off his tears and grabs the knife to throw it to you.

“Here, take it. I don’t want your cursed money. I just hope you use it to spill your own blood, none of ours,” he mutters venomously. You take the knife as Levi briskly walks up to you and grabs your shoulder now that you’re not in immediate danger anymore.

He only glances at the knife, not surprised in the least that it’s not undergarments you’re purchasing but a weapon. He pulls you behind him, his sword still out, and then turns to the man.

“To raise a weapon against someone with diplomatic immunity and protection is a capital offence. Even you must know as much, old man,” Levi states. He looks cold, his eyes hard and ruthless.

“I’m fine, Levi,” you sigh. “Let us just go.”

“It’s not as simple as that,” Levi announces tensely. “I’ve been ordered to protect you and deal with threats to the full extent of the law.”

You frown, and when the implication of his words hits you, you gasp and grab his arm.

“You cannot be serious!” you gape at him. “I was not hurt.”

“That doesn’t matter. The intent is enough.”

The man gives Levi a look of defiance, though underneath is poorly concealed fear.

“You’re going to cut down your own to protect a foreigner like her, boy? What has this country become? Go ahead, then. I died years ago when my daughter stopped writing.” He straightens his back and though you can see he’s trembling from head to toe, he refuses to cower in front of Levi.

His wife whimpers and crawls towards Levi, head bowed in a begging motion.

“Please, sir, can’t you let him go? He means no harm, he’s just gone wrong from all the grief-“

“Don’t touch me,” Levi orders when the woman’s hands get too close to him. You look back and forth between Levi and the man.

“Levi, he was not going to hurt me,” you try to reason. “That sword is dull, he could not kill me with that even if he tried. He is just a heartbroken old man, I doubt he would have the strength even if that blade was sharp enough.”

“That’s none of my business. My orders are crystal clear; eliminate everyone who threatens the Princess of Novaryn. No exceptions.”

“He was not going to hurt me!” you snap. “Levi, sheathe your weapon. Now.”

Levi stands completely still and disregards you. He takes a step towards the man, and you hurry to stand between them.

“That is an order.” You lock eyes with him, gaze resolute. You’ve never ordered Levi before. You’ve asked him to do things, but they’ve always been softened with a _“please”._ Now, though, you’re staring him down.

You might be a foolish little girl who knows nothing of Varsiko and their customs, but you’re still a princess. The future wife of the czarevich. Your word weighs for something and now, Levi is going to stand down and listen to you.

Levi gives you a long, dark look. His sword is out and he shows no signs of backing down.

“Stand aside,” he tells you dully. You shake your head. Levi groans and rolls his eyes. He then grabs your arm, forcefully pulls you to the side and with a single slash of his sword, the man is beyond help.

You let out a small shriek when you realise what’s happened. The woman wails and crawls to the man, futilely trying to place her hands over the gashing wound.

“Maurice, oh Maurice,” she breathes, clearly in shock. “What shall I do now? Oh dear, oh dear,” she sniffs and hugs his body to her chest. You see the life draining from his eyes until he’s gone.

He’s dead.

Levi killed him, just like that.

“Let’s go. I’m under orders to take you back to the castle should anything out of the ordinary happen.”

“You killed him,” you breathe, in shock.

Levi grasps your arm and starts steering you to the door of the store. You snap out of your petrified state and start struggling.

“Let go of me,” you order, your cool completely lost. “You murderer, how could you? How could you?! He was just an old man, let go of me!”

Levi groans when you dig your heels into the floor and try to pull free. You want nothing to do with your guard right now.

With zero difficulties, he grabs you and throws you over his shoulder like you’re a piece of luggage. He then starts carrying you to the door.

Your wide eyes are fixed on the woman, fruitlessly trying to wake up her husband.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe at her, but she doesn’t hear you.

As Levi makes it out of the store to the streets, buzzing with life just as it was fifteen minutes ago, blissfully unaware that a man has just been killed in the dusty general store no one seems to pay much attention to, you snap out of your shock and start your vicious fighting again.

You draw stares and whispers as you go. You struggle against him, bang your fists at his back, do everything you can to make him drop you down, but it’s to no avail.

His cape and uniform make everyone stand back. He’s a high ranking officer and everyone’s aware of that. No one dares to step in to as much as ask what’s going on.

Levi doesn’t even break a sweat as he carries your struggling body atop of the small hill where the carriage is waiting. He opens the door and unceremoniously throws you in on top of the soft cushions. He signals for the driver to start moving and then hops in after you.

“Do not touch me,” you breathe and immediately crawl back on the red satin cushions until your back hits the wall. Levi snorts and sits down across from you. He doesn’t look bothered at all by your temper tantrum.

“I wasn’t touching you because I enjoy it,” he points out dully. You stare at him incredulously. How can he be so calm?

He ignores you the ride home, despite the way you glare at him. When the carriage pulls up in front of the Rekanon Castle, you get out the second the driver opens the door. You march past the barren front yard inside the castle.

You can hear Levi following you, and when you walk inside your chambers and realise he’s tailed you all the way here, you turn to give him a hard glare just as he closes the door after himself.

“Whatever are you doing?” you ask, voice thin with fury.

“The Czar has ordered me to keep you company,” Levi answers calmly. You march up to him and point at the door.

“I do not care what the Czar has ordered. Get out!”

“I only take orders from you if they’re not in direct conflict with the Czar’s,” Levi tells you. His matter-of-fact disregard for your emotional state frustrates you.

“You killed that man!” you yell at him. It’s as if the weeks of stress and isolation are crashing down on you. You’re cracking at the seams.

For a couple of blissful hours, you felt like a normal person. Walking around town shopping like anybody else. Not a princess. Not a political prisoner. Not a bargaining chip.

Without a doubt, the news of Levi killing a poor old man in your name has spread. Your name and face have spread.

You probably can’t go back into the city again.

“I was under orders to.”

“He was not a threat! He was an old man struck with grief because he lost his daughter!”

“That’s none of my concern.”

“He was not going to kill me!”

“That was his decision. He knew what the repercussions would be when he drew that sword.” Levi starts looking a little annoyed.

“He was an elderly person!”

“Would you have preferred if he was a young man? A child, maybe?” Levi offers, and you lose it.

Your hand connects with his cheek, and the sting in your palm is painful and instantaneous. Levi is completely unscathed by the sudden slap. The force doesn’t as much as move his head to the side.

“You can keep slapping me if that is what makes you feel better,” he offers. He sounds uninterested, almost bored. It annoys you. How casual he is about this.

“You just killed someone! How can you be so calm?!”

“Little miss, I’ve killed thousands and thousands of people. Many of which deserved it less than that old-timer did. My order was to kill, so I killed. That’s all there is to it.”

You grit your teeth and slap him again. And again. He doesn’t do anything to stop you, and eventually, your hits grow weaker and weaker when you realise that you’re having zero effect on him.

Your eyes fill with tears and finally, you crumble.

You slump on the floor, your face pressed into your knees, and sob.

You’re helpless.

You’re useless.

You can’t do anything. You can bring peace to neither this country nor your own. You can’t make your husband-to-be care about you. You couldn’t stop Levi from killing that old man. Hell, you can’t even make his cheek sting enough for him to try and stop you from slapping it.

You’re weak. A naïve little girl who can’t accomplish anything on her own. A throwaway child that was never the more welcome in Novaryn than you are in Varsiko.

“It is not fair,” you sob into your knees, hands fisting your own hair so hard you hear it rip a bit.

Levi watches you unravel with unreadable eyes. Not a muscle on his face changes as you cry until you’re tired and boneless.

When Levi picks you up again, his hands are gentler than last time. With one arm under your knees and another around your back, he hoists you up in his arms. You’re too exhausted to fight him, so you stay limp in his hold and allow him to take you to the bed.

“Life is never fair, little miss,” he tells you. His voice is matter-of-fact, but there’s a small twinge of compassion underneath that you can just barely decipher.

He places you on the bed, and you immediately burrow under the thick blankets to hide. From him. From the reality of the situation. You turn your back to him and curl up. He straightens his back and watches the slump under the red covers for a brief moment before walking back to the door.

“Levi,” you mutter after a moment of silence. You’re tired and blue. All you want is to close your eyes and forget this day ever happened.

“What?”

“Did you really feel no sympathy for that old man?”

“Of course, I did.”

“But you killed him.”

“Yeah.”

“Just because of some vague orders you got from the Czar.”

“They were not vague to me.”

“Are you even human?” you sniffle pitifully, too exhausted to put much venom in your tone.

“Technically, I believe I’m somewhere between a human and a machine.”

You chuckle in disbelief. Is that his version of a joke?

“I do not understand you,” you confess. You open your eyes even though under the protective layer of the blanket, everything is dark and dim.

You wrap your arms around yourself just to realise you have the knife, pushed in the folds of your dress. You pull it out and quietly slip it under your pillow.

“You don’t have to understand me, little miss. I’m just here to keep you alive.”

“For now,” you mutter so quietly he can’t hear you. With one last steadying breath, you pull the covers aside and sit up. You lean your back against the cherrywood head of the bed and kick your shoes off to the floor.

You think it over, letting out the occasional leftover sniff, and then turn your eyes to Levi.

“May I ask you to pass me a pen and paper, or are you under direct orders from the Czar to limit my usage of writing equipment?”

Levi doesn’t reply. Instead, he walks to the table and grabs a blank parchment paper and quill. He passes them to you and walks back to the door.

You think it over. It might be in vain, but it’s still worth a shot. You want to believe you’re capable of doing _something_, even if it’s saving one person. Just one is enough.

_Sirius,_ you start.

_Dearest brother. I know it’s unbecoming and unusual of me to ask for a favour of this nature, but it is of utmost personal importance to me._

_I am looking for a woman by the name of Belle Lindt. She may be a prisoner of war, and I was hoping you could assist me with finding her and safely returning her back to her mother._

You describe her appearance and where she went missing, roll up the paper and get out of the bed. You seal the letter and wander out to the balcony.

The day is turning into evening and the cool wind blowing in does nothing to ease the heavy feeling in your chest.

You whistle for the hawk appointed to you, and when she perches on your outstretched arm, you tie the letter to her leg and quickly tell her to take it to your brother. Before you can change your mind and concern yourself with what’s proper of you.

The hawk flies off, and you watch her glide to the apricot horizon. You place a weighty hand on your heart, another on your forehead, and murmur a small prayer.

Maybe the Creator will allow you this small miracle before your soul is forever lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my. Levi is a ruthless killing machine. Who would've thought? <s>Ok but I found him throwing Reader around hotter than I probably should and may incorporate that in the future chapters because who doesn't love a ruthless rough boi sorry not sorry the thirst is real</s>
> 
> With this fic, I find myself writing in a lot of descriptions of scenery and stuff. I hope you don't mind it, I just really feel like conveying how I imagine the world to look like ^^; And also, the update took more than a month, which, oops, but in my defence I have three other fics I juggle, schoolwork and the chapters for this fic are probably the hardest and most demanding to write because it takes place in a world I've made from scratch haha. I still love writing this, though!
> 
> Anyway, this fic will have some upsetting and heavy stuff happening and I have some pretty unsettling things planned, so just be advised that this will be a darker and grimmer fic with a lot of angst and violence. Hope you're in for that :)
> 
> Comments are always greatly appreciated, I love discussing with my readers and whenever I get an email notification, I get this hopeful giddy feeling when I think it might be a fic comment haha. So, if you want to make my day and encourage me, please consider leaving a comment! :)


	5. Her Story

_Rough hands holding you down. Your wrists bruising. You writhe on the bed, head thrown back._

_“Quiet,” someone murmurs into your ear. “A good girl stays still and lets her owner fuck her.”_

_You frown a little. Owner?_

_You open your eyes to look at the man above you. Cold eyes flashing behind round glasses, his beard scratching the skin on your chest as he suddenly surges down to bite your nipple._

_“Let go,” you breathe but to no avail. You feel him moving inside you and clench your eyes shut._

_“You’re mine, pet,” you hear his raspy whisper. You try kicking at his back, but he’s too close for you to get your feet between you and push him away._

_He pins your wrists down with one hand and uses the other to grab your throat._

_“What a good pet,” he praises with a viciously mocking snarl and clutches your windpipe shut. “I can’t wait to feel how tight you’ll clench around me as I strangle you to death.”_

_“Stop,” you breathe._

_“How annoying.”_

_Suddenly, his voice changes. You open your eyes to see it’s now Eren above you. He’s let go of you, he refuses to touch you as he snaps his hips down with impersonal annoyance._

_“Why do I have to do this?” he complains. You just stare at him, gaping. Are you losing your mind?_

_You try to push him off, but he merely glares at you and snaps his hips down harder._

_“It’s not like I want to do this. The least you can do is stay still.”_

_You feel a sting of humiliation. As if you wanted to do this, either. He moves into you unenthusiastically, nose wrinkling and eyes avoiding yours._

_You turn your head to the side, your eyes closing as you try to disengage from the distressing situation. You feel something move inside you and the impersonal edge of it all makes you bite your lip to keep yourself from crying._

_A breeding mare. Just like your mother._

_Just as suddenly, you feel something change above you. Someone grabs your chin to turn your head._

_“Look at me, little miss.”_

_Your eyes fly open and you gape when you see that suddenly, it’s Levi, and he’s a lot more handsy. He tugs you in for a hard kiss, his hips fast and unyielding. Yet, his eyes are keen on you, making sure you’re moaning in pleasure underneath him._

_Your body moves on its own. You wrap your arms around his neck, cling to him as he takes you, and gasps of utter heat and arousal escape your lips._

_Your tongues rub together, your groomed nails bury into his toned back as you hand yourself over to him._

_“Levi,” you breathe his name, surrendered._

_“Oh? What do we have here?” you hear a drawling, lazy voice. You turn your head to see Zeke and Eren. Zeke’s eyes are gleaming with mirth as he witnesses your infidelity. Eren looks annoyed and mostly impassive._

_Levi dismounts you and salutes Zeke._

_“Just as I told you, the little miss is exceptionally untrustworthy,” he explains, suddenly fully clothed. He doesn’t as much as look at you. He looks uninterested. You try to cover yourself with the sheets, but they’re suddenly gone._

_You look at Levi with wide eyes, the burn of his betrayal making bile rise up your stomach to your throat._

_“Such an eager lapdog,” Zeke chuckles. “Levi, show the pet how we treat little whores around here.”_

_Levi takes out his sword, steps in and without a hue of emotion in his eyes, he slices._

-

You wake up to your own scream. Springing up on the soft cushions, your eyes are wide open and disturbed as you instinctively clutch your throat to make sure it’s still very much sealed.

You slowly let go and stare at your trembling hands.

It’s far from the first time this has happened. Ever since the letters started coming, you’ve had unsettling dreams, but the incident in town has escalated your paranoia.

It’s also the first time Levi has been included in such a fashion.

Little by little, your surroundings get embedded in your brain, and you calm down. You’re fine. You’re still alive.

Outside, you can hear seabirds cawing to each other in the midst of their midsummer mating rituals. You can hear horsemen pasturing outside, shipments of weapons being wheeled down the short walkway towards the gates, without a doubt enhanced in the Wing of Science and to be taken to the Military Base.

You have instructed Maid Springer to keep your bed _of neutral colours_ and thus, you no longer have to deal with the sight of bright red all around you first thing in the morning. Now, your sheets are a shade of warm brown. You can live with that.

You don’t have to turn to know that Levi is already on duty, watching you from the door. You’ve learnt to identify his hawk-like stare from the other guards, most of which either avoid looking at you or glare at you with lazily masked disdain.

“You’ve been screaming a lot lately,” you hear his familiar voice point out. You turn to glance at Levi and suddenly, you’re acutely aware of the fact that you just dreamt of having indecent intercourse with him.

You don’t know why that happened, but it unsettles you.

You shove your puffy covers aside and walk up to the balcony. The sun is already high up the sky as you open the doors to let in some fresh air.

You look at the uneventful yard for a few seconds before slipping into the bathroom. You don’t take a full bath, only freshen up a little and then slip back into your nightgown.

Levi admits Maid Springer in as he steps out, and she starts on making you presentable.

You stay mostly quiet as she pulls a green dress on you, cinches your waist and weaves your hair into her usual tight, strictly laced braids.

It looks to be yet another uneventfully morose day when you hear a knock on the door.

“Your grace! A letter,” you hear a familiar voice, and instantly your face comes alive, with hopeful flutters beginning in your stomach.

“Come in,” you call, and when you see a familiar buzzcut boy that you’ve encountered around the castle from time to time since first meeting him in the dining hall, you smile.

“Connie,” you greet him. He bows, but when he notices the woman standing next to you, his voice suddenly becomes thin and he starts to furiously push his shirt into his trousers.

“Ma!” he squeaks like a dog caught red-handed, looking borderline terrified. You glance at Maid Springer as she careers to Connie and instantly catches him by the ear.

“Connie Springer! How many times do I have to tell you to be orderly when you deliver letters to the royals! When was that shirt last washed? Your hair is all over the place! Did you shoot straight here from the smelliest swamps of Novaryn without as much as stopping to take a bath?” she yammers without as much as pausing to take a breath.

You wonder how Connie’s buzzcut can be _out of place_.

“Ma! I’m in the middle of delivering a letter to the princess!” Connie tries to defend himself. Levi has walked in to see what the commotion is about, and he looks to be rather approving of Maid Springer giving her son an earful for looking disorderly.

Connie turns his pleading eyes to yours, asking you to save him from his mother’s overbearing nags, but you have a mother of your own, and you know they will not back down until you’ve heard all they have to say.

“Go ahead, Maid Springer. I do not mind,” you quickly disregard. Connie looks betrayed as his mother gives him a full earful, and when he finally walks to you, he looks much more dapper, yet also a lot more tired than upon entering the room.

“A letter from Novaryn,” he says. You see your brother’s handwriting and instantly, the butterflies are back. He’s probably responding to your request to find the daughter of that old couple and send her back to her mother.

“Ah, wait a moment,” you realise and walk to your vanity. On top of it is a small bowl full of imported fruit, expensive and rare. You grab a bunch of grapes and two tangerines and hand them to Connie.

“Share these with Sasha. If you just came back from Novaryn, she is probably hungry.”

Connie blinks at the food. It’s not the kind he could ever afford with his messenger’s pay. You’re not too fond of the fruit. It tastes stale since it’s imported.

In Novaryn, you were surrounded by rich fields full of ripe fruits and juicy berries, so to you, they taste almost rotten. It would be a shame to let them go uneaten.

Finally, Connie takes the food and smiles at you, albeit a bit awkwardly. He’s probably not used to his higher-ups extending any kind of unnecessary kindness his way.

“I’ll give these to her,” he promises, salutes and walks out of the door.

Maid Springer looks a bit taken aback but eventually gives you a smile. The first one you ever recall receiving from her.

“Thank you, your grace. That damned boy always forgets to eat things that are good for him.”

You smile and shake your head to politely decline the praise. She finishes your hair, and you can’t help but notice that she’s seemingly given up on the task of having every inch of your scalp pulled at least an inch off your skull.

You can appreciate that.

Once she’s gone, you hurry to the letter. Without minding Levi’s presence, you rip it open and hungrily read through the curt words.

_Cora,_

_I understand your request comes from a place of sympathy, but you must stay reminded of the realities. I have no way of tracking down one woman who went missing years ago somewhere in East Novaryn. Father has strictly banned releasing prisoners of war unless it is for mutual exchange. Making an exception can easily result in public unrest as everyone from both sides suddenly demands to have their family back from the other side._

_Leave handling the politics to me and Father and focus on creating good relations with the Czar and his family._

_Sirius_

It’s the first time you’ve ever felt anything even remotely resembling annoyance or shortness directed at you from your brother, but you instantly catch it here.

_Stay out of adults’ business, you naïve little girl, and focus on looking pretty and not pissing anyone off._

Your animated mien dies down and when you fold and stash the letter, the familiar, trained calmness is back in your expression. Your eyes are once again proper, empty and dull. Not alive and hopeful like before.

You should have seen this coming. There was no way this would have happened the way you hoped. You should have known better than sending such a letter to pester your brother in the first place.

You really are a spoiled little brat.

Dejected, you get on your feet and walk out of your quarters. Levi, obviously observant enough to have picked up on the sudden change, follows you without a word.

As you make your way to the bright dining hall, Czar Yeager and most of his family have already eaten breakfast. Only Historia is still there, slowly shovelling some oats in her mouth while idly reading through a book she’s propped up against a can of water.

You look over her distracted face. Out of all of your to-be in-laws, she’s the one you feel the most at ease with.

But, you can’t help but wonder how she feels about Zeke. She’s his fiancée after all.

“Good morning,” you murmur to Historia and sit down. Levi takes his usual place next to Historia’s guard, Thomas Wagner, and watches quietly as you gather some food on your plate.

You often entertain the thought of skipping meals, but you know that you need to stay in your best health.

“Good morning,” comes Historia’s absent-minded, melodic voice. You glance at the book curiously, but it’s in a language you don’t understand.

It suddenly occurs to you that you have no idea who Historia is and where she’s from. You just assumed she’s some kind of noble from Varsiko.

She must have sensed your curious glances because she looks up from her book and gives you a small smile.

“It’s just a fairy tale book they sent me from home,” she enlightens you. You look over the foreign symbols on the cover and nod.

“If you do not mind me asking, where are you from?” you ask carefully. Historia chimes a laugh and shakes her head.

“Why would I mind? I’m Nambalese.”

You pause to think. Your knowledge of geography is rather limited since you received minimal education. You recall hearing the name once or twice, but you can’t place where.

Historia looks at your struggle with a patient smile.

“You probably wouldn’t know, it’s half a globe away. Bring me a piece of paper and pen, please,” she says to one of the maids who is bringing out another loaf of bread.

A minute later, Historia has rolled out a blank parchment on the dining table. She draws East and West Novaryn and Varsiko and then sketches down another, large continent across Mortis Sea.

There, she draws the outlines of a mid-sized nation on the Northern shore.

“This is Nambala. In short, it has been conquered and colonised by Varsiko for a bit over sixty years.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. A colony?

Novaryn, for all its size and influence, never bothered with colonies thanks to having such vast natural resources on its own lands. Plus, the act of conquering and converting a bunch of foreigners into the ways of your Creator was deemed a feat too bothersome.

Varsiko only got the brunt of Novaryn’s wrath because it was close and practising Alchemy.

Novaryn swallows neighbouring nations and converts their inhabitants, Varsiko seems to prefer a more indirect approach: colonies.

“So, you are Nambalese royalty? You speak good Nortish,” you compliment. Immediately, Historia chuckles a little.

“Nortish is the Varsiko-enforced language of business and education. Nambalese is rarely heard or written. That’s why books like these,” she gestures towards the fairy tale book, “are increasingly important to us.”

“Oh,” you utter for a lack of better words, feeling a little dumb.

You eye Historia, but she doesn’t seem to be too emotional. She, like you, must have trained herself to stay calm even when discussing the pillaging and destruction of her home country.

“So… How did you end up-?” changing your mind midway, you cut yourself off. “Nevermind. That was too intrusive of me.”

“You’re curious to hear how I ended up here,” Historia fills in. She doesn’t look angry and there’s a temperate gleam to her eyes.

“Well, when Varsiko arrived sixty-odd years ago, we were vastly unprepared for a full-scale invasion. I would feel uncomfortable disclosing full details in front of the Czar and his family, but since it’s only the four of us here, I’ll go ahead and tell you the full details; it wasn’t just an invasion, it was a compherensive genocide. We lost almost ten per cent of our population to famine, massacres and forced labour. Our nature and agriculture quickly collapsed under their intense demand for raw materials like metals, wood and grains.”

Historia takes a sip of her tea and breathes deeply.

“They launched extensive projects, mines and logging, and staffed them with locals. The workers were paid on paper, but in practice it was slavery. The conditions were so bad that as much as forty per cent of Varsiko-employed workers died within twenty years. Quitting or fleeing was met with harsh punishments, not only on the workers themselves but their families and extended families as well. We were at a crisis. My great-grandfather, then-king, had never dealt with anything like that. Up until the invasion, we were fairly unorganised agriculture with a large percentage of people still living in isolated villages or being hunter-gatherers. We had not industrialised to any extent of the word.”

You listen, mouth hanging open at the recap of atrocities Historia is entrusting to you. She looks as calm as always, but you can see deeply seeded anguish in her eyes.

“He struggled to organise any kind of resistance or negotiations thanks to his inexperience, as his rule up until then was concentrated around solving small internal squabbles and dealing with natural threats to our crops, such as animals or typhoons. Thus, our citizens started resisting by themselves. Mutinies were ignited and stifled all around Nambala until one particular faction started gaining traction. Within five years, their guerrilla warfare saw the destruction and burning of plenty of Varsikovian settlements and settlers.”

You nod slowly along as Historia tells the story, struggling to wrap your head around the horror of the situation.

“By the time my grandfather ascended to the throne, things had escalated to a full-on conflict between our people and Varsikovians. Only, where my great-grandfather had been mostly helpless, my grandfather quickly summoned these organised guerrilla troops, gave them governmental support, and went full-on offensive with the goal of extricating Varsiko from our lands twenty-seven years ago. What followed was a messy, bloody civil war. Varsiko dominated the warfare thanks to their advanced military and Alchemy even though we had the raw numbers and little by little we lost territories to Varsikovian plantations and settlements.”

You’ve forgotten to eat as you listen to the unfolding of the events. You never heard of any of this. The little history you learnt was mostly of Novaryn and Varsiko, with a few other countries from Nort, your continent, mixed in.

Nambala is located in a southern continent across the Mortis sea called Zwanma. All you know about it is that it’s tropical and scarcely populated with vast forests and nature.

“By the time my father took the throne eight years ago after my grandfather was killed in an assassination carried out by Varsiko, he immediately started negotiations. Some people viewed him as a traitor, but most were grateful he was bringing the civil war to an end. Varsiko, at that point, was eager to direct their full military forces against Novaryn and thus, were ready to give some leeway to local farmers and miners to get their cooperation. The terms of work are still vastly unfair and underpaid, but at least their military presence has lessened, and they no longer engage in large-scale pillaging and massacres. That alone was enough for most Nambalese.”

“And you were brought here to solidify the peace?” you slowly ask.

Just like you. You suddenly feel a strong kinship with Historia for your similar positions.

Not only that, you feel a wave of inferiority, seeing how informed and knowledgeable Historia is of her country’s affairs. She was clearly raised to be a diplomat while you were busy reading books and drinking tea with your mother.

“I am. Our positions differ a little, though,” Historia hums with a distant smile. “I am the only child and heir of Rod Reiss, the current King. An integral part of the peace conditions from Varsiko was not only that I was to marry their eldest _czarevich_ but also that the Nambalese royal pair are not allowed to have more children.”

You think it over for a moment and then, your eyes fly open.

“So, they want to annex Nambala by having their only heir become a Varsikovian?”

“Yes. My father hopes that will ensure that decisions are made with Nambalese interests at heart, having their czarina be from there, but some are sceptical. Some think Zeke will completely disregard me and rule with an iron fist.”

You can see that happening. If anything, you would be surprised if he were to give Historia any power to wield once he becomes the Czar.

“Were these peace negotiations led by Czar Yeager?” you ask, a little perplexed. He doesn’t seem the kind to endorse massacres and annexation. Then again, looks can be deceiving. Especially with politicians.

“The Czar has always been more engaged with trying to find a solution to the Varsiko-Novaryn conflict. His role in Nambala was more symbolic than anything, he mainly just signed and stamped whatever papers Admiral Zackly brought before him.”

“How do you feel about all this?” you ask carefully. Historia looks at you, and for a moment her approachable, smiling face turns blue and cynical. Her real face.

“That has zero importance. My first and only priority is trying to prevent another genocide from taking place in my homeland. My country is in ruins, my people are suffering. My feelings have no place in this. If marrying that-“ Historia cuts herself off in the middle of her passionate speech. You see her mouth purse as she swallows and takes a deep breath. She knows better than insulting her fiancé out loud, even in a limited company.

She closes her eyes for a second and when she opens them, she looks like her normal self again.

“I’m happy to marry Zeke,” she says with a convincing smile.

You’re left in awe at her restraint. She’s been here, in a situation worse than yours, for far longer and she’s holding it all in, in a way you could never. She was clearly trained and brought up to navigate the tricky political climate, not neglected and then thrown to the wolves like you were.

“I had no clue Varsiko was doing all that,” you admit with a wince. “I thought they had more honour than that.”

Historia gives you a smile that’s just a tad on the condescending side.

“Varsiko is hardly in a position that allows them the luxury of morals. Thanks to Novaryn, they have to use whatever they can to keep their independence.”

It’s all over Historia’s face that she’s not excusing any of Varsiko’s behaviour, but she sees the wider context for it. You feel a stab of guilt.

“Do you hate Novaryn?” you ask timidly.

“If I were to pick between loving and hating Novaryn, I would pick the latter,” Historia hums non-venomously.

“Do you hate me?”

At that, she lets out a melodic titter.

“You? Don’t be silly. It’s obvious you never had any say in Novarynian politics. You’ve never as much as talked with your father; how could you have done anything to end the conflict?”

She’s right and as much as her words set you at ease, they also make you feel a bit blue. It’s a reminder about how useless you are. Sirius’ letter flashes in your mind again, and you swallow thickly.

“Does Zeke treat you decent, at least?”

“He doesn’t torment me as he does you,” Historia replies honestly. “He even entertains me with parties and gifts at times. He knows he’ll need me compliant to keep Nambala happy so he’s willing to play a good husband.”

Historia pushes her plate aside and gets on her feet. She takes her book and hugs it to her chest. With a small smile, she extends her hand towards you, her palm facing outright. A gesture of goodwill.

“If you ever need anything or just want to talk, you can come to me. I may not fancy Novaryn, but I feel for you. Let’s be friends.”

You smile back, only half of the joy fabricated, and press your palm against hers. You move your hands up and down once in unison and she then turns for the doors.

Just as she’s about to move out, you think of something.

“Are there any beautiful places in close vicinity? The castle is large but hardly ornate and I'm aching for some aesthetics,” you confess. You’re aching to get out a bit, somewhere other than the busy city. It didn’t go too well last time.

She turns and gives you a knowing grin.

“Ask Captain Levi to take you to the Osra field. It’s the Czarina’s garden. The roses are in bloom right now,” she advises you. You give her a grateful nod and watch her leave the room.

When she’s gone, you turn to Levi, who’s leaning against the wall as per usual.

“Did you know about all this?”

“Yes,” he replies honestly. He seems neither interested nor affected by the recap of terrors he just witnessed.

You hum and get up with the intention of leaving the dining hall when Levi suddenly blocks your path.

“Your breakfast,” he points at the plate you’ve hardly touched. “Finish it.”

You give him an irked look and glance at the plate. What is he, your mother?

“That is none of your concern,” you frown at him. He crosses his arms and snorts.

“Trust me, little miss, I’m none the more enthusiastic about babysitting you, but I have orders from the Czar to make sure your basic needs are met. And you haven’t eaten breakfast.”

“What will you do if I refuse? Kill the maid for not cooking the eggs to my liking?” you ask with obvious snark. Levi raises an eyebrow.

“Still mad about that old-timer?”

“Of course, I’m mad about you senselessly murdering an elderly civilian,” you bark back, the reminder instantly making you irritated. He shrugs nonchalantly and points at the plate.

“Finish your food.”

“I doubt the Czar meant for you to become my daddy,” you snort.

“Call me daddy again and I’ll spank you like one,” Levi shoots back with a wrinkled nose, and you can’t tell if he’s being playful or laying out a legitimate threat.

“Piss off,” you tsk and attempt to march right past him. This fussy old man and his creepy loyalty to the Czar. You couldn’t have gotten a more annoying guard.

Levi effortlessly places both hands on your waist from behind to grab you, lifts you up and despite your vocal protests, carries you back to the table and plants you back on your chair.

The dream from last night invades your brain, and you find your breath stuck in your throat at his casual touch. You fight back a blush as you’re reminded of the passionate intercourse you had in your fantasies.

“Would you stop touching me without my consent?” you ask him pointedly.

“Gladly. All you need to do is stop being such a brat,” Levi retorts calmly and points at your unfinished meal. “Eat it.”

With a dissatisfied growl, you grab your fork and shovel down the meal in record speed, all the while glaring at Levi like a cranky toddler.

“Done. Happy?”

“Yes.”

“Fine, then take me to that field Historia was talking about.”

Levi shrugs and walks you out of the castle. You saddle your horse and, still too inexperienced to ride him on your own, have Levi tie the reins to his saddle. He guides the two of you out of the castle grounds. The twenty-five-minute walk is mostly uneventful, down a small path just outside the castle grounds, past fields of potatoes and carrots, through a small evergreen forest, until you arrive at a small meadow in the midst.

It’s obvious it’s planted and gardened as roses don’t naturally grow in Varsiko, but the sight is still breath-taking.

It’s the first time you see something in Varsiko that even remotely reminds you of home. You see the thick grass, the roses planted at the sides, the assortments of wildflowers blooming in crisp colours all around you. You feel the bask of sunlight. Hear the forest birds chirp. Hear small insects buzz past you in their endless task to gather nectar and pollen.

You let out a long, adoring sigh and the moment Levi pulls the horses to a halt, you dismount yours and practically run through the meadow with a child-like giggle.

Levi keeps half an eye on you while he ties the horses to a nearby tree.

You move through the rustling, tall grass without minding the green stains forming on your dress. You breathe in the fresh air, with only a hint of salt from the sea. You only now realise how dearly you’ve missed clean air after so many weeks of breathing in polluted industry fumes.

You find a nice spot at the top of a small, gently sloping hill that faces the potato fields below. Sitting down, you thread your fingers through the grass. In the field, you see some Varsikovian farmers working hard to sow the hard land. You tug out a blade of grass and fiddle it in your fingertips, growing thoughtful.

You wonder if those people know the full extent of what Varsiko is doing in Nambala.

You think about your talk with Historia.

You wish you could be more like her. Educated and equipped to deal with political scheming.

You hear Levi walk to you and take his familiar position behind you.

You suddenly wonder what Levi was demoted for. He mentioned being sent to the Wing of Royal Affairs as punishment, and you wonder what it is he did to deserve it. If anything, he seems too eager to carry out orders.

It only now occurs to you that it’s probably a lie; Levi was sent to keep an eye on you on behalf of the military. It would make sense.

“Why do you always go in such lengths to carry out the Czar’s commands?” you ask him without turning.

“That’s none of your concern,” comes the expected reply. Of course, it’s not. You let out a thoughtful hum and lay down on the soft grass. You look up at Levi, who’s standing behind you.

“Levi.”

“What?”

“Do you hate Novaryn?”

“I hate what it’s done to my country.”

His honest reply earns him a taken aback look from you. Not that what he’s saying surprises you. He fought in the Wing of Offence up until recently. It’s only natural he hates Novaryn. But you didn’t think he would give you any information whatsoever about his personal affairs.

“Are your parents safe at least?”

“I don’t have any.”

You sit up and turn to give him a blink. His sudden honesty still perplexes you.

“You are an orphan?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks to Novaryn?” you ask, a little apprehensive.

“Yes.”

You wince.

“Is that why you are a soldier?”

“I was raised in a military institution. A lot of orphans, especially those orphaned thanks to the war, are taken away from orphanages at age four and enlisted to the military. They’re trained with the aim of making elite soldiers.”

“Did you have a say in being enlisted?”

“No.”

That sounds extremely dubious. Then again, it’s about what you would expect from a nation like Varsiko.

“What about the augmentation?”

“They don’t augment anyone against their will,” Levi replies steadily. You nod. That’s good, at least. Maybe that’s why the number of augmented people is so low. The procedure doesn’t seem to be perfectly safe yet.

“How do they pick who gets augmented?”

“They only offer it to orphans. If things go wrong and the subject either dies or gets contaminated by metal, there’s less grief involved since there are no relatives to upset,” Levi explains nonchalantly.

The logic sounds rather callous to you but you guess it makes sense.

“Why did you get augmented?”

“That’s-”

“None of my concern,” you sigh and scratch your head. You’re impressed Levi humoured your questions even this far.

“Why did you tell me all that?”

“It’s all information you would find out on your own sooner or later anyway if you keep reading _Song of Steel_. I might as well give you the answers.”

“Thank you.”

Levi snorts dismissively. You turn your eyes back to the field where the farmers are doing their hard labour. You wonder how many of them hate your guts as that old man did. Probably most of them.

“Do you hate me?” you ask without turning.

Levi is quiet behind you for a brief moment. Then, he huffs and places a surprisingly gentle hand on your hair.

“I don’t hate you, little miss. You have no hand in politics and your sin is not malice nor bitterness but ignorance,” he says and pats just a little. Comforting you.

There he is again, touching you like you’re a small kid instead of the princess he’s assigned to look after. Levi has no interest in treating you like royalty. At times, it annoys you. Others, it makes you feel more at ease.

“Well, that makes two of you,” you hum with dry humour. “You still think I’m a pain in the ass, though.”

“Only when you make me treat you like a toddler.”

“It is you who is unreasonable,” you counter. You feel his gentle fingers on top of your head, brushing into your hair just a little bit.

You feel a sudden rush of tingles. You remember your dream last night, and your face starts heating up again.

Levi seems thoughtful behind you. It’s unlike him to keep touching you prolongedly like this. He must have noticed that you’ve grown increasingly dejected, increasingly blue and increasingly anxious.

He retracts his hand eventually, but the nervousness has already been implanted in you.

“I wish I could be more like Historia,” you confess with a sigh. Mostly to distract yourself from the confusing feelings.

“She’s an adept diplomat only because she must,” Levi reminds you.

He’s right. She was probably loaded with incredible amounts of duty and stress ever since she was a child. In that regard, you were let off easy.

“Do you think I can really do this?” you murmur. Marry Eren. Be a good diplomat. Somehow navigate the crisis.

“Yes.”

His response warms you a little.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Even though I’m ignorant?”

“Ignorance can be worked with. Your brain is there, it’s just mostly been left unfilled growing up.”

That’s a blunt yet oddly inoffensive way of putting it. A chuckle leaves your lips.

“I guess you are right.”

Levi contemplates for a second and finally moves to sit on the grass beside you. He keeps a solid distance, but the gesture alone shows you that he’s slowly warming up to you. You stare out in silence, the nature buzzing around you.

You look out to the horizon, and suddenly you feel light and dreamy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who ordered a history lesson?
> 
> Honestly, I wasn't sure how to introduce Historia's backstory and expand the worldbuilding to include other continents and the concept of colonies, so I just kinda put it here ^^;
> 
> On the plus side, daddy Levi is looking after his princess and the said princess is slowly starting to become attached and attracted to the only man who treats her like a normal person. Those dreams are hella wild, though.
> 
> A fairly uneventful chapter, sorry about that, but I hope the fluff saved at least some of it for you :) As always, comments are greatly appreciated and I love hearing from you guys!


	6. The Warmth of His Blood

When you step out of your quarters that afternoon, you’re still a bit confused and conflicted about your feelings regarding many things.

You don’t know why, but you feel a sense of annoyance towards your brother. You haven’t replied to his letter, and you figured you’d wait until your feelings of irritation have passed. You know he’s right, but something about the way he talked to you rubs you the wrong way.

It’s odd because you’ve always gotten along with your brother. Then again, you never tried to participate in politics up until now. A venture everyone seems to be against.

Except for Levi. He said he trusts you can do it. His encouraging words, more than anything, are what’s made you resume reading _Song of Steel_. While it’s mostly just a recap of Varsiko’s military achievements, you find small nuggets of information here and there that capture your interest.

Like the fact that ethnically, Varsikovians are closer to East-Nortish people such as Ljudelians rather than Novarynians. Or that the first Varsikovian people wandered to Varsiko thanks to a horrible flood in the East a few thousand years ago.

Or that war and military conflicts have always been a part of Varsikovian history, even before Novaryn attacked, and they’ve seen more than one ruthless dictator and loads of civil unrest. Thanks to the harsh climate and limited resources, there has always been a bit of a brawl going on to control the little they have.

Alchemy was brought to Varsiko around five hundred years ago by former Novarynian Creator worshippers, who found the science in a bunch of sacred yet forbidden texts that described the rituals. Varsikovians, never a religious people, discarded the parts where the texts blatantly forbade anyone from using it should they wish to retain the Creator’s favour, and enthusiastically started practising the Dark Science.

Until Ymir found the formulas and compounds that were useful for the military, Alchemy was mainly practised to provide military leaders and the royalty with gold, silver and expensive gemstones for their luxuries. Few knew how to do it.

Around 120 years ago, the public interest in Alchemy spread as a way to produce sturdier buildings and improve medicine. Thus, schools were built to teach the art to a much wider audience. Novaryn, who had looked at the small fringe groups of alchemists through its fingers, got alarmed and put its foot down, telling Varsiko they would not tolerate widespread alchemy in their immediate surroundings.

Varsiko, seeing Novaryn as an old, sleeping giant who hadn’t been to war in a millennia after swallowing most of its neighbouring nations, discarded the warnings as biteless barking.

Obviously, the Novarynian invasion came as a nasty shock, but Varsiko quickly took a position of non-compliance. They struggled immensely at first, but once Ymir introduced Alchemy as a way to enhance military technology and the Wing of Science was established, things got a lot more even.

Thus, here you are, a century later. On your way to meet the Head Alchemist of the military because she sent you a cryptic message about _“needing to talk to you”._

As you walk through the hallways, Levi following close behind, as usual, you’re fairly distracted, sorting through information in your head.

You would have missed Zeke completely had the sudden movement you see from the corner of your eye not caught your interest.

You pause just as you’re passing by a window and look out, just to see Zeke outside in the less frequently used backyard. Standing in the shadows close to the castle, he’s conversing with a woman you don’t recall seeing before. She’s dressed in a very ordinary outfit of a simple cotton dress with her brunette hair pulled back on a ponytail.

When your eyes land on her freckled face, you frown. It’s oddly familiar, yet you can’t place where you might have seen her.

Zeke hands her a scroll of paper and then swiftly walks back inside. You quickly pull away from the window before he can see you watching and lick your lips nervously.

The woman looks oddly familiar. Where have you seen her before?

Levi gives you an inquisitive look, and you quickly shake your head and keep walking. For now, you’ll just have to store the encounter somewhere in your brain and keep your eyes open. It could truly well be that it’s nothing, but you’re not going to give Zeke the benefit of the doubt with anything, that’s how little you trust him.

As soon as you open the door that takes you to the corridor belonging to the Wing of Science, you’re met with a thick, foul-smelling cloud of smoke.

Immediately, Levi coils in disgust at the smell. It’s a weird combination of metal and gas, and you have a faint clue you know who’s behind it even before the door to Hange’s study flings open and she and Moblit run out coughing viciously.

Moblit goes straight for the window and opens it to let the smoke out while Hange goes back in and comes out a few seconds later, holding something with heavy iron thongs.

You can see it’s some kind of metal, but you can’t name it. It’s steaming viciously as if it’s evaporating.

“What…? What is that?” you ask, mouth agape.

Hange raises her head and when she notices you and Levi, her mouth turns upwards into a smile.

“Oh. Hey!” She turns her eyes to the steaming lump of metal.

“This is a bronze ore that’s halfway turning into bromine, we were experimenting on fusion elements,” she explains. Moblit hurries off to another room down the corridor and comes out with a small yet heavy-looking chest. He places it down and has to use both hands to open the lid.

Hange puts the metal in, and Moblit seals it away. The top is probably not completely airtight, but it at least holds the odour off.

“We’ll later attempt a three-way fusion,” Hange explains, “so, we can’t dispose of that one just yet.”

You frown. You still don’t quite understand how Alchemy works, and you contemplate asking. Before you can, however, Hange has sprung to Levi and grabbed his arm.

“Levi! I was hoping you’d come if I invited the princess! It’s time for your annual check-up,” she announces.

“You invited me just to check up on Levi?” you ask, only a little surprised. Hange gives you an apologetic wince.

“Sorry. But he never comes of his own volition and if you don’t check regularly, the parts are more prone to malfunction.”

Levi glares at Hange, but when you shrug and gesture towards her study, he doesn’t put up too much of a fight. At first, you’re thinking of staying outside, but Hange gives you a grin.

“Want to observe?”

“Observe?”

“You looked curious.”

Levi wanders in the dim room and hops to sit on the stone table in the middle. He removes his shirt, and you admittedly struggle with keeping your eyes appropriate. He’s very toned and you’ve never been in male company a lot, let alone in half-naked one.

Hange grabs Levi’s arm and starts yanking it in different positions.

“Joint mobility is still good,” she remarks. You watch her work. She checks Levi’s legs as well before sinking her hand in a bowl of liquid and placing it on one of the symbols on the table. Immediately, it lights bright purple.

In the dim light, you can see Levi’s body start gleaming in a variety of colours, muffled by his skin but underneath, you can see at least a dozen different tones, each brighter and more brilliant than the last.

“No composition decay either,” Hange says after looking over Levi’s body. Obviously, the colours tell her something that goes right over your head. Levi himself looks a little bored, he’s clearly been through this procedure before.

“So, what exactly _is _Alchemy?” you ask. You know what it’s capable of, but you don’t know the principles with which it operates.

“At the base of it all, it’s changing the molecular blueprint of something,” Hange explains despite Moblit’s horrified expression. He must be wary of you still.

“Blueprint?”

“Everything in existence has a blueprint inside it that stores information on what it is, what it’s made of and how to build another one of itself. It’s the very same blueprint that makes children resemble their parents, that makes animals be able to breed, it’s nature’s way of storing information.”

You nod as Hange unceremoniously opens Levi’s mouth to check something inside, despite his annoyed growl.

“What we do is we re-arrange that blueprint to be the blueprint of something else and thus change its composition. It then becomes that something else,” Hange explains as she enthusiastically checks Levi’s teeth.

“So, when you augment, you change the human body into metal?” you ask. Hange chuckles.

“That would be extremely risky and complex. We change the composition just a teeny tiny bit, just enough to not reject metals and then replace various bones with them and coat organs with them.”

That sounds extremely unpleasant.

“Is it painful?”

“Not after the operation,” Levi replies dully once Hange is finally done checking his mouth. “During, however…”

“It’s a small price to pay to have such a beautiful, perfect body,” Hange sighs wistfully. You wonder why she doesn’t just augment herself, then.

Levi’s check-up comes to a close, and he pulls his shirt and cape back on. You look around the study curiously, but nothing has changed since last time. It still looks just as disorderly, with books and vials everywhere and the lighting so dim you have trouble seeing around.

You feel a sense of curiosity about Alchemy. It’s a forbidden art, and you’ve only recently found out that it was actually discovered by Novarynians.

As you step outside to the corridor, Levi seems to be a bit irritated, especially as Hange hurries after him and knocks his head just in case to make sure the metal underneath makes a chiming sound, indicating the coating around Levi’s skull is still intact.

That explains why slapping Levi hurt so damn much.

Stepping out of the Wing of Science, you stumble upon three familiar people who are standing next to the window, talking to each other animatedly.

Obviously, you noticed Armin wasn’t present with Hange and Moblit, but when you see him with Eren and Mikasa of all people, you feel a bit confused.

You watch them, and for the first time, you see Eren looking enthusiastic about anything. He’s smiling, looking over a book of sorts that Armin has opened to show the two of them.

You can’t hear what Armin is presenting, but he looks to be complete enamoured. Eren’s eyes have a longing hue to them as well, and Mikasa, while quiet as usual, looks at the book as well with clear intrigue.

Eventually, Armin notices you approaching, and he closes the book before you can see what it is they’re looking at. You can’t recognise the book, it has a warm brown cover with some blue text engraved on the leather spelling out a name you’re not familiar with.

“Your grace,” Armin bows. Eren, as soon as his eyes land on you, loses his excitement and turns sullen. His eyes pause on the purple necklace hanging from your neck, the one he gave you, but he makes no comment on it.

“Armin, Eren,” you greet them with a nod. You glance at Mikasa, but she’s never as much as spoken a word to you. You don’t think you’ve ever even heard her speak.

“You were visiting the Wing of Science?” Armin asks, hardly containing his curiosity.

“Hange invited us. Levi needed his annual check-up,” you explain and gesture to Levi, who looks mildly annoyed.

“I see.” Armin nods.

Eren’s mouth is pursed unhappily, and eventually, he can’t keep his dissatisfaction to himself. He points at the necklace.

“You don’t have to wear that,” he states bluntly. You notice Mikasa’s uneasy eyes flickering to the piece of jewellery as well. You really have a hunch these two have something going on.

“I’m aware,” you respond, polite but nonapologetic.

“It doesn’t match with the rest of your outfit,” he then points out.

“That is not something I am concerned with,” you hum. Eren frowns, a little irritated, and suddenly extends his hand as if he’s going to yank the necklace off. He changes his mind halfway and pauses. Then, he drops his hand and turns his head away with a bothered sigh.

“Fine. Do whatever you want.”

“Thank you, your grace,” you curtsey with a dull edge to your tone. Eren glances at you.

“Don’t call me _your grace_. It’s annoying.”

“Then, what should I call you?” you ask curiously.

“Eren’s fine.”

“Alright. Then you may call me Cora,” you return the favour. He looks like he wants to argue but decides to bite his tongue last minute.

“Whatever,” he huffs and marches off. Mikasa follows him without a word. Armin, clutching the book to his chest, looks after them with a faint smile.

“Don’t mind him,” he tells you earnestly. “He’s just not very good at expressing himself.”

“Do you know him well?”

“I grew up here in the castle as well, so we became friends as kids.” Armin smiles fondly and you can instantly tell these two share a deep bond.

“What about Mikasa?”

“She also grew up in the castle. At first, they were going to raise her to be a chambermaid, but she showed an excellent aptitude for fighting, so they ended up training her to be a soldier instead. Now, she’s an Ackerman.”

“Ackerman?” You turn to Levi, connecting the dots between their shared last name.

“Oh, it’s a little complicated, let me explain,” Armin says with a smile. “Orphans are treated a bit different in this country. An orphan is raised in an orphanage until age four and then redirected to an institution that will train them for their future occupation. Orphans, by default, don’t have a last name. They must earn one by completing their education and acquiring a role. A soldier gets the last name _Bauer_, but an augmented one gets to carry the rare and valuable _Ackerman_, reserved solely for them and their descendants.”

“Why would they leave orphans without a last name?” you ask, perplexed. It doesn’t make sense to you. Armin looks a bit uncomfortable.

“It’s because Varsikovian culture values strength above all else,” Levi cuts in, deadpan. “If your parents died, they must have been weak, and their last name doesn’t deserve to be preserved through you. The orphan must earn back the status their parents lost.”

It sounds all sorts of messed up, but you know better than expressing outrage outwards. Thus, you just nod slowly.

“A small society like ours really needs extraordinary talent to succeed against the much larger nations around us, and thus we push for harsh competition,” Armin explains. “The concept of earning everything you have starting from your name and the roof over your head is embedded into the culture.”

You quietly think to the government-funded orphanages in Novaryn, where priests and other Enlightened raise children to respect the ways of the Creator. They grow up fed and happy.

Then again, you’re starting to see things from a different perspective. To Varsikovians, it probably looks like Novaryn is brainwashing children into religion from birth. Two opposing cultures. Two points of view. None necessarily better than the other.

Still, that doesn’t mean that the Varsikovian way doesn’t sound weird to you.

You feel a strong urge to ask Armin more about Eren in an attempt to find out if there’s anything you two have in common, but you decide against it. You don’t want to be invasive towards your future husband.

That doesn’t mean you won’t snoop about other things now that you have a chance.

“Armin, can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“Why does the older _czarevich_ hate Novaryn so much?”

Armin blinks, taken aback, and thinks it over. He’s clearly not sure how much of the information he’s allowed to disclose. Finally, he leans in.

“I don’t feel comfortable telling you, but I can tell you where to find that information. In the library, look for a black bookcase. It has contemporary history. Look for a large, red book that’s half-empty. It depicts the current Czar’s regime, updated yearly. You’ll find what you’re looking for there.”

You nod gratefully.

“Thank you, Armin.”

He offers a small smile and starts walking back towards the Wing of Science. You glance at the book in his hands curiously but eventually let it go. You know to limit your prying.

You set course towards the library, Levi quiet behind you as always. You’ve gotten to the point where you’re used to his presence. Most of the time. Sometimes, you suddenly become hyper-aware of it and your pulse quickens on its own.

The library is just as bright, stacked and empty as always. You rarely see people there. Looking around, you locate the single, black bookshelf in the middle of the oak-coloured ones.

You look around for the book and finally locate it at your eye-level. It’s rather thick, and a large part of it has already been filled. You glance at Levi, who’s leaning against the wall with a blatantly uninterested look in his eyes.

“Going to give me any hints as for where to start looking?”

Levi gives you a long, bland look. Lately, he hasn’t been as quiet and neutral as before. He’s actually given you information. Discussed with you. Even encouraged you.

It doesn’t take him long to relent. He shrugs to himself in resignation.

“You might want to read through the records from sixteen years back,” he enlightens you. You sit down on the floor without minding the dust getting on your dress, cross your legs and open the book, expertly ignoring Levi’s disapproving looks.

You find the right page and start reading.

_“And what a tragedy the Lunar year of 1062 was turning out to be! Not only would Varsiko suffer gravely in the hands of the Nambalan barbarians with their savage warfare, targeting the honourable Varsikovian settlements, where brave men and women defended Varsiko’s justly acquired bounties-”_

You wonder if Historia is aware of these records.

_“-but the Czar was about to face a devastating loss of a personal calibre. The beloved Czarina, noble and brave, was to become the victim of the Novarynian dogs. Sailing home from a routine visit to her family in the Eastern Kingdom of Ljudel, her vessel got seized and abducted by Novaryn. A lowly trick the upright Varsikovian army would never engage in, for they have honour and dignity-”_

You skip the half a page dedicated to praising the Varsikovian army and the all-powerful Admiral Zackly.

_“Novaryn, ever the cowardly kind, denied any responsibility for the abduction, blaming pirates for the attack and claiming they have no knowledge of the fate of our beloved _Czarina_. She went missing, perhaps forever leaving us with our sorrow and longing. The Czar, even amid his intense grief, raising his son now alone, was able to push aside his feelings and think of what’s best for Varsiko. Marrying again the next year, he relentlessly continued his quest for a solution to the war between the oppressed Varsiko and the foul Novaryn…”_

You close the book. You got what you needed already.

So, Zeke’s mother, the first Czarina, got abducted by what people assumed to be Novarynian navy. Novaryn denied responsibility and the Czar let it go because he was desperate to end the war. You knew the first Czarina was not in the picture, but you never knew what happened to her.

You hum to yourself.

“Levi.”

“What?”

“Even if we manage to keep the peace for the foreseeable future, is there not a legitimate concern that the _czarevich_ will resume warfare the second he ascends to the throne.”

“There is.”

“Is my father aware of this?”

“Who knows.”

You bite your lower lip. A part of you thinks this is something your father should know, that the Czar’s heir apparent is not as eager for peace as his old man.

Then again, even though you’ve never met your father, you can imagine he’s the kind of man to ruthlessly bring that to the negotiation table and use that as a way to leverage Eren on the throne, with his own blood as the Czarina. Having a puppet queen could be appealing to him.

And the more time you spend here, the less you know who you should be loyal to. Your country, Novaryn, who abandoned you and sent you here like a pig for slaughter. Or this country, Varsiko, who deeply resents you and wishes you never set foot on its soil.

Novaryn, the aggressor who attacked a small nation because of duty to religion, or Varsiko, the defendant who owns colonies and worships black magic.

For now, staying neutral seems like the best thing you can do. Keep your eyes open, your mind ready to take in information and nuance. Hopefully, at the end of this all, you’ll have an informed opinion. But for now, you know far too little to be meddling with things.

Maybe, just maybe, you’re learning. Getting a hang of politics.

“Levi,” you add with a playful twinkle after a minute of idle silence.

“What?”

“Why was Hange looking into your mouth when she was doing the check-up?”

“When she augmented me, she was so excited for her first augmentation that she accidentally knocked one of my teeth off. She replaced it with a golden one and whenever she manages to corner me for a check-up, she checks it’s still nice and shiny.”

“So, you have a gold tooth?” you ask, a little amused. He nods nonchalantly. Somehow, the small piece of information makes you happy.

You’re realising you rather like Levi. In more ways than you’re ready to admit, but at this stage, you’re alright with wanting to know more about him.

You put the book back in the shelf and just as you’re about to walk to the door, a glimmer of something very shiny suddenly hits your eyes. You look up and see the back of a golden book at the very top of one of the shelves. Instantly, your curiosity is piqued.

You look around for a ladder and move to prop one against the shelf. Before you can climb up, however, Levi steps in.

“I’m doing it this time.”

“I can fetch a book by myself,” you argue, but Levi doesn’t let up.

“Last time, you fell,” he reminds you and starts climbing. He retrieves the book and hands it to you, and to your disappointment, you notice there’s a heavy padlock closed over the cover, sealing away the text within.

_Advanced Alchemy – The Complete Teachings of Ymir_

So, this is one of the books that you can only open by either taking a bar exam or being a royal.

“Are you ever curious about what secrets there are sealed in these books?” you ask. Levi looks disengaged.

“Not really.”

“Why not?”

“I have already reaped the benefits. The details of how they came to be don’t interest me.”

Levi. Always so practical. With a small chuckle, you put the book aside and start making your way to the dining hall for lunch.

Maybe one of these days, you’ll be in on the secrets.

-

When you’re violently hauled out of sleep, it takes you a moment to gather your surroundings. You were dreaming of rustling grass, Levi’s hand in your hair and the nickers of your horse when he pastures in the fields.

The first thing you register once you wake up from your slumber is that it’s still dark around you.

The second is that there’s a silhouette above you, huffing and grunting.

The third is that you can’t breathe.

Instantly, you go in full panic mode. You feel his large hands wrapped around your delicate neck, squeezing down with unprecedented force.

You want to cough but there’s no air left in your lungs. You claw at his hands futilely.

Once your eyes get used to the darkness a little, you recognise the person. The glaring eyes and poorly shaved face; it’s one of your guards. The one who reported for duty tonight.

A dreadful thought flashes in your mind, that Levi is somehow involved with this, the mastermind behind this, but you don’t have the time to entertain the notion right now.

You try to kick and punch, but he’s much larger than you and he has a chokehold on you. You’re already dizzy and on the verge of losing consciousness.

It takes you a few seconds more to remember the knife. Instantly, you reach your hand under the pillows. Your fingers wrap around the wooden handle. It takes you a panic-filled moment to open it with one hand, but the second you do, you slash your assailant with it.

He senses something coming and pulls his head back so that you miss his neck and instead nick his cheek. Instantly, a few droplets of blood fall on your chin.

Whereas the injury is not great, the guard immediately grows angry nonetheless. With a swift movement, he slaps your cheek.

“Think you can scratch me, Novarynian whore?” he hisses. Suddenly, he lets go of your throat and grabs your hair instead.

Immediately, you start hacking as air once again enters your lungs. Still dizzy but no longer dying, you focus on getting as much oxygen to your brain as possible. If you want to survive, you need to be able to think. You gasp for air despite the burning pain on your throat, caused by the prolonged pressure.

All the while, the man seems to be trying to decide what to do with you, mind going on angry loops as he aches to punish you for fighting back. You clutch the knife in your hand, eyes wide as you try to think. He thought you used your nail to slash him. He hasn’t noticed the knife yet. That might just be the only shot you have at surviving this.

The guard pulls you off the bed and starts dragging you by your hair. The ripping sound sends a shudder down your spine even though there’s too much adrenaline in your system for you to register the pain. You dig your heels in the floor and open your mouth to scream for help, but he quickly places his hand over your mouth.

“Keep your mouth shut. No one’s going to come to your aid. Everyone in this castle wishes you were dead,” he hisses. He stops in the middle of the room just to grab your throat again. You feel your airways getting clenched shut once more, your eyes fill with tears as he easily raises you off the ground.

You look at the man in the darkness, his angry eyes and gritted teeth.

_What are you waiting for? Slice him! _

The thought is crystal clear, screaming at you, but you can’t move. You’re frozen in terror. He starts carrying you to the balcony, probably to throw you right off it, and the adrenaline is instead replaced with dizzy dreaminess. In an instant, as you realise you’re doomed, you grow sluggish. Passive. A mere observer to your final moments.

_Are_ you going to die?

Probably.

Everything seems to be in slow motion. The walk, your thoughts.

You think of your mother and feel remorse about the fact that you can never talk to her again. She’ll be left with nothing left in the world. Her afternoon tea will forever taste stale and no novel will bring a smile on her face.

You think of your brother and feel anger towards yourself. Why did your last encounter with him have to be such a negative one? You shouldn’t have asked for such a childish thing.

You think of Eren. You wonder if he’ll now end up marrying someone he loves. Like his guard, they seem to be getting along.

You think of Levi.

You wonder if he was in on this. You wonder why he encouraged you, told that you have what it takes to survive when you’re this helpless. You want to apologise for slapping him.

Then something changes. You feel a jolt at the thought of him.

An impulse. A call to action.

You see his face in your mind, the determination and ruthlessness he displayed when protecting you against both Zeke and the old man, and suddenly you know what to do. You can’t give up.

You need to fight and survive, just so you can return to him and the rest once more.

Your fingers twitch around the blade handle, and before the guard can open the doors to the balcony, you move quickly.

It only takes you one slash. You hit him right in the artery and immediately, his face turns to a wince of pain, then confusion as he struggles to understand where the sudden sharp feeling originates from.

He feels his throat with the hand not holding you by the neck, and when he feels the blood, his expression turns to anger for a brief second.

He lets go of you and you fall down on the floor, coughing.

Before you can crawl away, he slumps down on top of you.

You find yourself face to face with his draining eyes. You hear the sickening gurgling noise of his death rattle, the sound of flowing liquids as his blood escapes him.

It’s warm.

With that thought, you see him pass.

As the adrenaline wears off and your brain works properly again, you realise what’s happened. You’ve just killed someone.

Your eyes turn wide and glossy as you look at the lifeless eyes of the guard, fixated on your face. You try to push him off, but the weight of a large, grown man with all his equipment is far too much for you to lift.

Dead. He’s dead.

You try to push him away again. You need to escape those eyes. The smell of blood. The warmth of it all over your nightgown.

You want to scream but your brain is in a fog. You don’t even know what you would scream for? Ask for help? Wish for death?

_Scream Levi’s name._

Why Levi? For all you know, he could be a part of this attempt.

You look at the guard again. Still dead. Still your fault.

Murderer.

Something breaks inside you irrevocably. The naïve Cora is gone, the one who came to this kingdom sheltered and clinging to childish hopes of happiness.

For in the midst of the chaos in your mind, obsessively rewinding the last two minutes on a masochistic loop, only one thought prevails.

This world is a cruel place.

With that, you shut down. You turn your gaze from the lifeless, glaring eyes of the body to the ceiling, and wait.

Your brain closes off, and without making a noise, you slowly lose your mind as the hours tick away. You’re left alone to spiral to the darkest of places, the castle quiet and lifeless and the body growing cold and stiff on top of you.

It’s okay.

When Levi comes to work in the morning, he immediately notes that the guard isn’t where he’s supposed to be outside the door.

An ominous feeling takes over him, and he hurries the last few steps to your quarters. Without knocking, he yanks the door open.

The sun has already risen, and thus Levi can immediately see the lifeless slump on the floor.

“What the fuck happened here?” he remarks out loud, on full alert, and hurries to the body. It’s the guard. He seems to be dead. Someone must have come in the middle of the night and kidnapped you.

He doesn’t see you at first as the guard's body covers the entirety of yours, but as he starts rolling him over to his back, he notices something underneath.

When his eyes land on you, he immediately shoves the guard aside. He looks over your glossy eyes, awake but distant. Broken. He looks at the blood all over your body, your nightgown stained, hands sticky, face painted crimson and your hair tangled with clots of it.

He recognises the unresponsive look on your face. He’s seen it before, on the faces of his soldiers when they’re rescued from enemy camps or come back from their first battles. When they see entire villages burnt alive, civilians tortured, chained and brought back as slave labour.

He sees the deep purple marks around your neck, and instantly knows what happened. The knife is still in your hand, though you clutch it only loosely. He reaches for it and takes it off you without facing any resistance.

He loops his arms around you and picks you up. You’re limp and lifeless, unresponsive to his touch.

You don’t register it when Levi holds you against his chest and presses the tiniest kiss on your forehead to comfort you.

“It’s okay, little miss. I've got you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I'm back and also did I mention I'm done setting up plot points and ready to finally kick the first arc into full gear? Well I did on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SquibblesMcGoo) so if you'd like hints as for what I'm working on/about to update or frustrated writing-related ranting or just good old shitposting, feel free to follow me ^^
> 
> You wouldn't believe the amount of NGE episodes I rewatched to prepare for Reader's mental breakdown this and next chapter. Such a good show. A hot mess at times but still very impressive.
> 
> So, what are your thoughts? I'd love to get Fs in the chat for both the guard and Reader's sanity (at least temporarily). I think she'll need some daddy Levi to get over this (I should probably change the tags to Hurt/Comfort but naaah). 
> 
> Nonetheless, I love comments, they keep me going, they give me strength and encouragement when I need it the most. Please drop a line if you at all feel like it!


	7. A Princess' Resolve

There are words around you. People. Meanings. Yet you can't extend your mind enough to grasp any of them. Talk passes you by, catty gossip and heated arguments that you struggle to comprehend.

_"She hasn't moved in two days."_

_"They say she's just in shock. Can’t blame her.”_

_"Open her mouth, I'll pour in some water and medicine."_

_“Elder, what do you think of the rumours? That she purposefully-”_

_“The Czar has prohibited this from being discussed. All we’re to do is nurse her the best we can.”_

Only mildly interested, you close your ears and go back to your painless slumber. You only register a phrase here and there as time and life pass you by as an endless stream.

_"How did this happen?! She was your responsibility, if this gets out, we're at a diplomatic incident! Explain yourself!"_

_"There was nothing out of the ordinary, I had no reason to assume her guards hated her enough to try and murder her.”_

_"You miscalculated, Levi! I expect you to take full responsibility for this. You were pulled out from the Wing of Offence to keep this exact thing from happening!"_

Why is this person so angry?

You're fine.

You're safe and warm. Existing has never been this easy, as a passive observer. Time floats past you without making an impact of any kind, it feels like years go by as you do nothing but exist while making half-hearted, absent-minded observations about things happening around you.

The sound of worried murmurs, the gentle touch of familiar hands, it all means nothing to you.

_"Carry her to the bathtub, Ser. I'll disrobe and wash her as usual."_

You distantly feel something warm sprinkled around your body, but it hardly matters.

Your body is secondary, everything around you feels like a hazy dream you doubt you’ll recall later. You feel eyes on you, some benevolent, some malevolent, and you wonder which one of them is your Creator, watching with deep disappointment as you give up and allow yourself to drift away.

Wouldn’t it be easier to just forget everything?

If you go back, you’ll hurt. You’ll remember the things you’re now running from, and it scares you.

You don't know how long you just float by before it even crosses your mind to question anything. But, eventually, you feel a tug of something, a call to regain some resemblance of yourself.

_“Oh? Aren’t you a loyal guard dog, standing between your _czarevich_ and his pet.”_

_“I have no intention of allowing you anywhere near her. I have orders-”_

_“It’s just the orders speaking, huh? Then, why are you glaring at me so fiercely, Levi? There’s nothing to be ashamed of, it wouldn’t be the first time a guard falls for his-”_

_“You’re imagining things, _your grace_. This is just babysitting duty.”_

_“You can keep telling yourself that, Levi, if that makes you sleep better at night. I will be back.”_

Those voices. Where have you heard them before? And why does one of them persistently make something tug in your chest whenever you hear it in your idle moments?

Little by little, coherence returns.

_Where are you?_

In Varsiko, a land that’s trying to kill you.

_Who are you?_

Cora Reader, the 13th Princess of the Kingdom of Novaryn.

_What are you?_

A murderer.

You feel a jolt of pain at the word.

Why _are you?_

You don’t know.

But you do know something else, a revelation you accept with bitter feelings. You can’t stay like this forever, can you?

Yet the outside world is scary. Being disconnected from everything. Your family, your culture, your religion, even yourself. In such a short time, you’ve gone from a wide-eyed, naïve princess to _this_.

You wonder if your Creator is still looking over you, or if you've already forever lost His favour.

Another jolt of pain.

You killed a man, after all.

At the thought, something stirs in your heart. Guilt?

_He attacked me first! I was just defending myself!_ you argue fiercely against yourself.

But a human life is a human life. You took it away. You’ve crossed a line that can’t be taken back.

You’re a murderer, and you have consequences to bear.

This peace you’ve spent what feels like an eternity in is a lie.

With that thought, the glass layer that formed around your psyche as you lay on that unyielding wooden floor, the warm stream of blood serenely flowing all over your white gown, shatters. Formed to protect you from the reality of it all, you willingly tear it down and come back to your senses.

Suddenly, all you can feel is pain. Not the physical kind, that you can bear. It’s the kind that cannot be cured with medicine. Pain that originates from your conscience and heart, radiating all over your body.

Excruciating pain. You can't breathe. You feel as if the large, clammy hands wrap around your throat again.

You're alive, but you're not sure it's worth the price.

Amidst the stampede of your emotions, the unorganised and scary jumble of unintelligible urges and feelings, you don't register you're moving again.

You break out of your catatonic terror just to sit up, bury your nails into your scalp and curl up over your knees.

A scream of anguish tears from your throat as you claw at yourself.

Murderer. Monster. Dead eyes, warm blood, the hard floor. Warm arms, soothing words. The memories flood back and you can’t stop the emotions that come with them.

It takes you long to register you're screaming and even longer that someone is next to you, grabbing your wrists and pulling them away from your head.

“Hey, hey, take it easy,” you hear a familiar voice grunt, and when you turn your head, the first thing you see is Levi.

Immediately, some of the memories clear up. Hands around your throat, the pain, time slowing down, dead eyes looking into yours and the warmth of blood.

“No…” you breathe and try to pull your hands free. Levi doesn’t let you. “No!”

“Stop struggling and listen to me,” Levi orders, but you shake your head.

“You…! You! Were you in on this?! Did you order the guard to attack me?!”

“No.”

How could you believe him? You try to rip your wrists away from him, but he holds onto you firmly.

“Let go,” you command.

“I would, but you’ll just go back to ripping your hair out,” Levi points out. How can he always be so infuriatingly calm?! Has the augmentation erased his feelings as well?

“Little miss, I get that you’re still in shock, but I’m going to need you to trust me.”

“Trust you?” you chuckle humourlessly. “You are the person in charge of that guard who tried to kill me! You are a Varsikovian. You are not even human!”

Before you notice it, you’re screaming again, tears running down your face.

You can’t trust him. You can trust no one. You’re helpless. You’re alone. And now you’re also a murderer. Maybe you shouldn't have fought after all, if this is the price you pay. Maybe you should have perished.

You struggle with all you’ve got even though it’s futile. Levi holds onto your wrists to keep you from hurting yourself until they bruise under his fingers.

He grits his teeth and forcefully drags you in despite your loud screams of protest. You register you’re pressed against something firm. He lets go of your wrists just to wrap his warm arms around you.

You realise you’re pressed against his chest. You feel the steady pulse of his heart, you feel his breath on your hair, and you instinctively stop resisting. Your eyes widen with confusion and relief as you hear his heartbeat against your ear. A reminder of the part of him that’s still human.

“I am not your enemy, little miss,” he speaks, his voice clear and unwavering yet heart-achingly soft and gentle. “I only have my word to give but I promise you, if my loyalties ever change against you, I will tell you to your face. I would never go behind your back and engage in something as cowardly as an assassination.”

You slowly relax against him. Something inside you says that you can trust him. You feel safe in his presence.

You’re so tired of fighting this futile battle on your own. You want to let it all go, even if for a minute, and just connect with another human being.

You slump into his chest, your hands clutch the coarse fabric of his cape, and you bury your face into him.

The tears form in your eyes and before you register what you’re doing, you’re bawling your heart out.

He allows you to cry against his sturdy body for what seems like an eternity, holding you through your cries and sobs.

When you pull back, your eyes meet for just a moment. You see the usual stoic look, but underneath is compassion. He feels bad for what happened.

“I owe you an apology,” he says steadily. You’re just staring at him, mesmerised by the sight of him emoting, even if it’s muffled.

“I was appointed to protect you, yet I failed that order. At the end of the day, it’s on me. I’m sorry.”

You find yourself shaking your head. You stare deep into the grey and you feel a pull towards him. You want to kiss him. You want him to comfort you in the most intimate of ways.

You move on your own to hug him again, this time tightly. Your face buries into his neck and there’s something pining and intimate in the way you pull him in.

You feel him stiffen, clearly uncomfortable and not knowing how to deal with your need for closeness. He embraced you earlier just to make you listen. Because you needed to feel safe and there was no one else to do it in his stead. This hug, however, feels more personal.

Eventually, he grabs your shoulders and clears his throat. There’s a pensive frown on his face as he pushes you away, gentle but undeniably firm.

“You should reserve such displays of affection for your fiancé only,” he says, a little awkward, and gets off the bed. There’s a clear warning in his voice to not get too close. You feel a small pang in your chest and your eyes flicker down to your fisted hands.

You don’t want your fiancé. He doesn’t care.

“Has my fiancé as much as visited me since I was attacked?”

Levi doesn’t answer and you can decipher the answer from the silence.

“How long was I out?”

“For around eight days.”

“What happened? Tell me everything.”

“The guard died, that much you probably remember. I came in the next morning and found you. The Elder examined you and determined you’re not in danger, just in shock. Your maid and I were, still are, the only ones who agreed to attend to you.”

“Agreed?” you look confused. Levi sighs, clearly bothered that he must be the one to break the news.

“You’re currently charged with first-degree murder,” he explains slowly. “Only me and the Springer maid agreed to guard and tend to you, the rest have declined.”

Immediately, what little comfort you felt from Levi’s embrace vanishes and you feel like you’ve been dunked into ice-cold water.

They think you murdered him in cold blood.

“He attacked me,” you point out helplessly.

“I know. You will probably be cleared of all charges thanks to the bruises around your neck. Despite that, according to our laws, until you’re cleared people are within their rights to refuse to serve you.”

You nod miserably.

“But wait… Does that mean you have been guarding me non-stop? Around the clock?”

Levi nods nonchalantly as if it’s nothing major.

“What is the Czar doing?”

“His utmost best to keep this from being leaked to Novaryn until he has a convincing case that this was some fringe case and not a Varsikovian conspiracy.”

“Do I need to go on trial?”

“They will probably conduct an internal investigation and declare you innocent. I would be surprised if they convicted you, based alone on the fact that it would start a diplomatic dispute with Novaryn.”

“Is there any insight as for what the guard’s motive was?”

“His autopsy found no sign of alcohol or drugs. He was in full understanding.”

Levi narrows his eyes and leans in.

“If you know anything, now’s the time to come clear,” he challenges steadily. You falter visibly as you debate with yourself.

You look down at your hands. Your body is recently washed, and your linen is clean.

While everyone else avoided you like the Three Plagues of the Summer of 458, Levi and Maid Springer took care of you when they didn’t need to. Levi swore to you he’d be honest with his intentions.

Maybe it’s time you start trusting him a little.

You move the covers aside and get on your feet. You’re a bit wobbly, but you still stubbornly make your way to the desk without Levi’s help.

You open the drawer and take out the tall stack of letters.

“Here. Maybe these will give you some clues,” you mutter and hand Levi the letters.

He takes them with a frown and starts reading through them while you stagger back to your bed. A tense silence falls between you as he reads through every letter without a word, only the sound of rustling parchment filling the room as he sorts through the stack.

“This…” he starts and looks at you over the papers. “How long has this been going on?”

“A month, maybe,” you shrug.

“And these are the letters you insisted were from your fiancé?”

“Yes.”

Levi sighs deeply and chucks the letters on the desk. He then walks up to you and crosses his arms.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’m your guard; if I had known I would have been on much higher alert,” he scolds you.

“I did not trust you,” comes your honest reply.

Levi holds his head with a deep sigh.

“Even then, you can’t just ignore a month’s worth of death threats like this. Did you tell anyone?”

You shake your head.

“I would be impressed if it weren’t for the fact that you foolishly put your life in danger by keeping this from me,” he tells you, deadpan.

“Making a big deal out of it is probably what he wanted,” you suggest with a stubborn shrug. “I did not want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he has gotten to me.”

“Well, at least this eliminates the chances that the guard was acting alone,” Levi assesses. You settle your blankets back on top of yourself and give him a raised eyebrow.

“How so?”

“That guard wouldn’t be able to write something this poetic,” Levi announces. “Man was dumb as a rock, which makes me think whoever’s behind these letters easily manipulated him into attacking you in his stead.”

You nod thoughtfully.

“What if it is someone who has more power than I do?” you ask carefully.

“There is a real chance it might be the _czarevich_,” Levi reads your thoughts. “In which case, it’s going to get complicated. We can’t just charge the future Czar with treason.”

You nod. If it ends up being Zeke, you will probably be forced to silence. You can’t openly accuse him without starting an international dispute.

“Levi,” you start, “I want an honest answer. If Zeke attacks me, will you be able to step in?”

“I am not able to hurt him seriously. I will try to fend him off, but I can’t kill him or injure him badly. In that case, getting the Czar involved is the best option.”

“You do not think the Czar has any part in this?” To be honest, neither do you. The Czar has sacrificed a large part of his regime to end the war, it wouldn’t make sense for him to try and kill you now.

“I’m under strict orders to keep you safe, and he visited you to yell at me while you were out,” Levi informs you. “He’s potentially the person who’s freaking out about this the most.”

You nod. For now, the Czar seems to be on your side. But if he has to pick between his son and you, you have an eerie premonition about how that would end up. Czar Yeager, unlike your father, seems to genuinely love his children.

“Either way, you have been out for eight days. Before we come up with a plan, you need to eat.”

“Plan?”

“I want to get to the bottom of these letters and find out who sent them and why. Rather than just waiting for the next attempt.”

If it’s Zeke, there’s not a lot you can do aside from asking the Czar for help. Nonetheless, you say nothing as Levi calls for Maid Springer.

She comes in a dozen minutes later with a meal. You give Levi a confused look.

“Am I not allowed out?”

“You’re in room arrest until you’re cleared of the charges,” Levi explains. Figures.

“You poor dear,“ Maid Springer sighs as she sets the tray of warm fish soup and bread on your lap. “Eat up.”

“Do you believe I’m innocent?” you ask her, taken aback. She pauses and gives you a stern, weirded-out look.

“What do you mean _do I believe_? Anyone who’s met you once knows you couldn’t kill anyone without a heavy reason, your grace. Would a murderer share her food with a commoner like my son? I don’t think so,” she squawks passionately.

You’re not sure the logic holds up, but you appreciate the sentiment.

Under the hawk-like gazes of both Levi and Maid Springer, you finish the whole meal, not because you’re hungry but because you know your two minders will start fussing in unison if you don’t.

You allow Levi to carry you to the bathroom since your legs are still wobbly, but insist that he and Maid Springer wait outside while you bathe in peace.

As you slip out of your robes and into the warm water, you let out a long sigh. You’re still struggling to come in terms with the whole situation.

You survived. Now what? The situation hasn’t changed. You’re still a target, people don’t trust you. They even think you killed the guard for fun.

You cup your hands and gather some warm water in them to look at your reflection. You look afraid and insecure, deeply disturbed.

Should you send Sirius a letter and tell him everything that happened, he would without a doubt start campaigning relentlessly for the annulment of the engagement. This, however, would come at the cost of the peace negotiations.

You know your life isn’t worth that much. Naïve as you may be, you know how little you matter in the grand scheme of things. Should you die, there are 12 other princesses who can serve exactly the same purpose.

You start scrubbing your hair clean, deep in thought. You feel the temptation to slip back into the dark place you just pulled yourself out of, the idle state of merely existing without a coherent thought. Without self-awareness, just a consciousness lost in space and time.

It would be easier, yet do you truly wish to waste your life on such goalless things?

But what do you have here? The whole nation is against you.

_Not the whole nation,_ a sudden thought crystallises. You have an ally. Levi is on your side.

So is Maid Springer, even Historia. You have people who sympathise with you, who are willing to help you.

Do you truly wish to disregard that and selfishly cease to function? Do you truly wish to embrace the notion of being a useless puppet with both arms open?

You suddenly recall Levi’s words from that small, blossoming hill you sat on together. How he thinks you have what it takes. All you need is information and experience.

As you slather your body with sweet-smelling soap, you grit your teeth together. You dig up that small and bruised seed of determination just to plant it back in your mind, where it was unrooted with the shock of the murder attempt.

You’re not just some useless princess. You refuse to give up and let everyone else handle things for you. You may be naïve, but you’re not defeated this easily.

You refuse. You have your pride.

You need to keep fighting.

With that thought, you get out of the bathtub and wrap a warm towel around yourself. You call for Levi to step outside while you’re indecent and then allow Maid Springer to pull a proper dress on you.

As she cinches your waist and waves your hair, you meet your eyes in the mirror. They’re no longer scared and disturbed. You’ve found a footing, albeit a shaky one.

You will rely on the small amount of confidence and determination you’ve managed to muster. The rest, you can feign. If you’re good at one thing, it’s keeping your wounds hidden until you’re out of sight.

It’s time to soldier on.

It’s a resolve you intend to hold onto, even if you know it’s still weak enough to be shattered with one blow.

But it’s all you’ve got right now, your fragile resolve and a handful of allies. The cards you have been dealt and all you can do is play them smart.

Levi comes back in a few minutes later with the word that the Czar wishes to meet with you.

You nod at him and dismiss Maid Springer.

When Czar Yeager walks in, the first thing you notice is the huge circles under his eyes. His face is sunken from the lack of sleep and his lips are dry and cracked. When he looks at you, his eyes momentarily flickering to the marks around your neck, he looks pained.

“Before we start discussing this incident, there is something I must do,” he tells you as he closes the door after himself, his voice solemn and his posture stiff.

Then, quite suddenly, he falls to his knees and presses his forehead against the floor, bowing to you in a deeply regretful gesture.

“I have no excuses for what happened to you. Clearly, we didn’t protect you enough and for that, I am deeply sorry. I hope you can forgive me for the way my country has treated you.”

You and Levi gape at him for a few seconds. You exchange bewildered looks with him and then hurry to kneel in front of him.

“Please stand up, your grace,” you beg. “You are not responsible for this attempt. You should not bow down to anyone.”

The Czar shakes his head stubbornly. He stays down for a few seconds more and then sits up.

“Allowing this to happen was most shameful,” he says, and for a second his eyes turn to Levi with an accusing edge. “Once the charges are cleared, I will personally make sure your guards are extensively screened for anti-Novarynian sentiments.”

You nod and give him your trained smile.

“Thank you, your grace. There is no need to stress, I’m fine. I did not get seriously hurt.”

“Only because you felt unsafe enough to carry a knife with you,” Czar Yeager reminds you gravely. “I’ve ordered Levi to stay with you at all times until we’ve finished the investigation of this incident, even if the other guards volunteer to return to duty.”

You glance at Levi, your heart taking a leap in your chest at the mention. That means he’s going to guard you during the nights as well.

He gets on his feet and you follow suit.

“As of now, all the evidence points towards the perpetrator acting alone,” the Czar tells you earnestly. You glance at your desk where the letters are stored but don’t tell him about them. The Czar is without a doubt eager to rule this a singular incident, who knows what he’d do with evidence on the contrary. Let alone if the perpetrator ends up being his own son.

Instead, you nod and smile emptily.

“That is a relief, your grace.”

“I will, unfortunately, have to comply with the protocol when it comes to your charges. Until they’re cleared, you have to stay in this room. I’ll tell Eren to visit you,” he promises.

“I’m sure his grace has better things to do, there is no need to bother him with this,” you offer an empty pleasantry.

“Nonsense. He’s your fiancé and the fact that he hasn’t visited you yet is outrageous,” Czar Yeager huffs.

You wince a little, you can see your relations getting tenser if the Czar once again forces his hand.

“I would prefer to summon him myself, your grace, it would feel more personal that way,” you quickly suggest.

The Czar contemplates for a moment and finally nods. He places a warm hand on your shoulder.

“Alright. I appreciate that you try to connect with him. He’s a good kid, just very stubborn and hot-headed. He’ll come around eventually,” he promises.

You nod. Not that you believe Eren will ever come to like you, but you always make sure to be polite around the Czar.

A silence falls between you, during which an awkward frown creeps on Czar Yeager’s face. It’s obvious he wants to ask something of you.

“Cora, listen,” he starts with a clear of this throat. “About, erm, disclosing details of this incident, I know it’s a lot to ask of you but I would very much appreciate it if you… Chose _carefully_ whom to confide in,” he states slowly, picking each word carefully.

You catch on immediately.

“I do not plan to tell my brother or mother about this,” you promise. “I wish not to worry them, and as you said, this likely a singular incident.”

A lie, of course, you know there’s a wider conspiracy behind it, but you don’t want to escalate things. Your brother would without a doubt voice his discontent for allowing you to get hurt and things could spiral out of control from there.

It’s for the best if they never find out.

Czar Yeager looks relieved. He smiles at you meekly.

“A respectable princess they sent us. You have my gratitude,” he tells you gently. “In return for your trust, I promise to never let anything like this happen again.”

An empty promise, but you appreciate the sentiment.

You nod again, and the Czar turns for the door.

“I’ll do my utmost best to hasten the investigation and get your charges cleared. Until then, please rest and should you need anything, you can turn to Levi.”

“I shall. Thank you, your grace.”

Czar Yeager walks to the door. As he opens it, he turns to look at Levi over his shoulder.

“Keep her safe, no matter the cost. That’s an order.”

“Understood,” Levi responds immediately, eyes hard and unreadable. When the Czar’s gone, you let out a long breath.

“Do not tell him about the letters. I cannot count on the Czar having my back if our suspicions turn out to be right and the czarevich is behind them.”

“Got it,” Levi nods.

The rest of the day goes by uneventfully. You obediently eat every meal Maid Springer gives you, the Elder of the castle does a check-up and deems you physically sound, just suffering from mental trauma.

You decide to start thinking of a plan the next day with Levi, once you’ve rested for a night and your brain is clearer.

As the day turns into evening, you visit the balcony to murmur a small prayer and then retire to your bed.

You dive under the covers and glance at Levi, who’s still standing by the doors with an unreadable expression. His eyes look even darker and stormier than usual in the dim light.

“Are you not going to rest?”

“I can sleep while standing. One of the abilities being augmented gives you,” he explains nonchalantly.

Blinking, you try to imagine Levi asleep. It’s harder than it has any right to be.

“Can you sleep with your eyes open as well?”

“Don’t be dumb, of course not,” he snorts.

You turn your back and curl up under the blankets. You left the lantern on your desk on so Levi doesn’t have to stand in the darkness all night.

You’re hyper-aware of his presence. Usually, he retires to his quarters for the night and another soldier stands guard outside your chambers.

You squeeze your eyes shut and try to calm your thundering heart. Whatever it is that’s causing this new and unsettling feeling, it needs to stop.

It’s not good to harbour feelings for a man like Levi. A Varsikovian war hero who’s irredeemably tarnished with the Black Science of Alchemy, and has spent his whole life slaughtering your kind.

Not that your heart listens to you. Not even with the reminder that Levi will turn on you should the war ever re-ignite and he gets the order to eliminate you.

The small slivers of compassion, the care and worry he extends to you, the small human things he displays at times when he forgets to act the part of a soldier who knows no emotion, they draw you in.

_Safe arms around you. A fleeting warmth on your forehead._

_“It’s okay, little miss. I've got you.”_

Your eyes snap open. Those words. Where did you hear them before?

Your memories are all jumbled up. You can’t place those images anywhere. Are they make-believe?

Pushing the memories away, you instead focus on resting.

It takes you forever to fall asleep, and when you do, you hardly slumber for an hour before the memories start replaying in your dreams.

Large hands on your throat. The sickening, ripping sound of your hair being pulled out of your scalp. The inhumane gargling sound of a man, desperately trying to draw a breath when his lungs are filling with the warmth of his own blood.

The ceiling you stared at for hours to come.

In your sleep, you curl up and whimper. Once, then again and again until you’re effectively sobbing. Levi watches without a move at first, but like a moth to a flame, he can’t run from his heart’s demise.

He walks to you in silence. Sitting down on the edge of your bed, he places his hand on your hair and caresses it tenderly.

Instinctively, you move your head towards the touch.

“Sleep, little miss. I will not allow anything to harm you,” he soothes with a quiet, pining voice. Instantly, your sobs get just a little less anguished.

Levi strokes your hair and watches over you for what feels like hours until your whimpers die down and you’re peaceful again, curled up with your chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

He allows himself a brief moment of adoring your sleeping face before removing his hand from what wasn’t his to touch, to begin with. He returns to his post at the door, once again sealing his affections deep inside the vault of his heart.

Come morning, his loving touch and soft words will be but a vanished memory.

-

The day starts with Maid Springer barging in with breakfast. She watches like a hawk as you eat and then ushers you out of bed to get you ready. You’re not going to leave your room and thus, getting presentable is not important, but Maid Springer seems to be in the camp that believes in the healing power of routines.

Admittedly, you feel better once you’re out of bed, bathed, fed and dressed.

You don’t know if Levi slept at all last night but if he didn’t, he doesn’t show it on his face. He looks just as alert as usual.

Once you’re ready, Maid Springer makes for the door, and when she opens it, she bumps into someone who was just about to enter. She looks up, and when she sees who it is, she scrambles to curtsey.

“Your grace! Please, excuse me,” she gasps and hurries off. The person she bumped into says nothing and instead, walks right into your room without as much as requesting permission.

Your whole body immediately goes on full alert. You see his gleeful eyes behind the round glasses, his fair beard and moustache, the smirk on his face, and instinctively take a step back from where you were standing by the vanity.

“This was left outside,” Zeke tells you and shows you an envelope. Immediately, you can tell from the handwriting that it’s from your murderous friend.

It’s as if he’s not even trying to hide it.

“Your grace,” you greet stiffly and curtsey.

“I was most shocked when I heard about what happened,” he hums non-convincingly. From the corner of your eye, you see Levi move a bit closer and subtly place his hand on the handle of his rifle.

Zeke’s left his guard outside. Either he’s not here to start trouble or he’s convinced Levi will not defy him.

Despite your pulse suddenly ringing in your ears, you meet Zeke’s eyes steadily.

He gives you a slow and intrusive once-over, his eyes pausing on your neck and gaining an unnerving hue of fondness.

You take the letter from him when he hands it to you. You’re not going to read it in front of him, something tells you that’s what he wants.

“Have you told your family?” he asks harmlessly. You shake your head.

“Czar Yeager has asked me not to until they can figure out whether there is a larger conspiracy at play,” you answer. You mention nothing of the letters.

“And you just listen to him?” he mocks. “Well, not that I can blame a lapdog for not knowing to do anything besides trying to please its master.”

The dreams you’ve had, where Zeke has forcefully pushed you down and taken your honour, invade your thoughts, but you fight off the instinct to back down. Levi’s here, he’ll make sure nothing bad happens.

“Nothing good will come out of getting Novaryn involved now,” you counter bravely.

“Is that so?” something flashes in Zeke’s eyes. He steps closer, and you force yourself to stay rooted. You will not let him notice how nervous you are.

“So, you’re trying to think with your own brain instead of blindly relying on the Czar, is that how it is?” he asks with a hum. You meet his eyes as he walks closer until he’s right in front of you.

You say nothing. He extends a hand and easily slips it into your hair.

“How amusing,” he chuckles. “And if you catch the person who orchestrated the murder attempt, what would you say to him?” he asks silkily.

“I would tell him that there are better ways to avenge for his mother’s disappearance,” you tell him on a whim, just to see his reaction. Zeke pauses and then chuckles. His eyes gain an ominous sheen.

“Blaming me, are we? I had no part in the attempt on your life,” he replies. He places his other hand on your neck, and that unnerving lust is back on his features.

“They look gorgeous on you,” he remarks. “The bruises.”

You feel a shudder go through your body, and you see Levi step closer.

“Release me,” you demand, but Zeke leans in instead. You feel his breath against your throat as he latches his lips on the largest bruise and starts suckling on the sore skin.

You see Levi draw out his sword from the corner of your eye, and suddenly you fear for him. What if he gets in trouble by stepping in?

Thus, you defend yourself. You shove Zeke away and send your hand flying, slapping him right across the face.

“Do not take me for some common courtesan, your grace,” you tell him, your hand closed over the kiss mark he just made. “I am loyal to my fiancé. If you do not want this to become a matter between yourself, him and the Czar, you shall never lay your hands on me again.”

Zeke touches his stinging cheek. He licks his lips, eyes clearly intrigued, and he laughs just a little.

“A pet dog that bites back, how amusing.” His eyes slide to Levi, who’s drawn his sword and is glaring openly, eyes stormy and dangerous.

“Seems like you’re already betraying your fiancé. In your fantasies, at least,” Zeke assesses when he sees the way your eyes involuntarily flicker to Levi. “I would be careful if I were you. He’s nothing but a guard dog, and you’re not the master he’s loyal to.”

You narrow your eyes.

“Whatever do you mean?”

Zeke chuckles and catches your chin between his fingers.

“Oh, don’t tell me he hasn’t told you,” he says gleefully. “Why, isn’t this amusing?”

Levi’s eyes turn harder.

“I believe the little miss asked you to not touch her,” he interjects tensely. Zeke chuckles and lets go.

“Yes, yes. As protective as always, eh, Levi? Sorry for touching your precious princess,” he drawls and walks to the door. He pauses just as he’s about to step out and glances at you over his shoulder.

“Sooner or later, pet, I can call you mine.”

Your eyes harden.

“What do you want from me?” you ask, dropping the proper act for a moment.

As if to respect you showing your true face, he does the same and his face turns ruthless and dangerous.

“I’m sure you’ve got it figured out, more or less,” he replies, his smile gone. “And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t rise against me, pet. Good day.”

The door closes after him, and you’re left in a heavy silence. Levi looks annoyed and he hurries to check on your neck.

“What did he mean when he talked about you?” you ask Levi as he grabs your chin to tilt your head to the side so he can get a good look. He shakes his head.

“It’s nothing important.”

You don’t believe him.

“Levi, I need to trust you for this to work, and I cannot do that if you hide important things from me,” you beg.

He grits his teeth and lets go of you when he deems you unharmed.

“I can’t tell you.“

“You mean, you do not want to,” you shoot back.

Levi is conflicted. He looks at you and opens his mouth, jaws clenched together as if the gesture alone takes a lot of his strength.

He takes a deep breath to speak, but instead of words, what comes out is a strangled noise and a gag. He quickly covers his mouth to keep himself from retching. For the first time ever, you see anything resembling helplessness in his eyes as he looks at you.

“I can’t tell you,” he breathes.

“What do you mean?” you ask, worried because he’s pale and looks ill all of a sudden. You walk to him and place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright? Do you want me to fetch the Elder?”

Levi shakes his head.

“I’ll be fine in a couple of minutes.”

You watch him take deep breaths, eyes closed and focused. Slowly, his paleness fades and he looks normal again.

“What was that?”

“I can’t tell you,” Levi explains tensely. He opens his eyes to meet yours. “There are reasons. But what I will promise is this; I am loyal to you now. Should that ever change, I will tell you.”

You’re confused. You have no idea what Levi just went through, why he looked sick, but your only chance as of now is to place some trust in him. You can’t get to the bottom of the letters on your own.

So, you nod.

“Alright. I shall trust you. For now, at least.”

Levi nods and plops a gentle hand on your head for just a second before turning his attention to the letter Zeke handed you.

“Going to open it?”

Only now remembering it even existed, you hurry to tear your eyes, dreamy thanks to the gesture, away from Levi and to the letter. You tear it open and take out a paper, the scribblings on it written with familiar cursive. Levi moves next to you to look over the contents as well.

_I should have known better than tasking that buffoon with killing you. Well done surviving what should’ve been your end._

_But worry not. I will get you eventually. Seeing how you handled that swine of a guard, it makes me all the more eager to be the one to sink my blade into your bruised, delicate neck, the colour draining from your face along with the blood-_

You feel a chunk of your resolve being chipped away. Your only recently found mental stability is already swaying with the sadistic words. Despite that, you can’t tear your eyes away from the letter.

Just as you’re about to read the whole fantasy, Levi, having already skimmed his gaze over the rest of it, unceremoniously takes the letter from you and tears it to pieces.

“You don’t have to read some sick bastard’s sadistic fantasies,” he tells you as you stare at him, at a loss for words.

He rips the paper a few more times than necessary to drive his point home, a clearly disgusted look on his face.

Your eyes glisten with gratitude and you feel a strong desire to hug him again. Instead, you merely nod and relish in the dissatisfied huff he makes as he throws the pieces in the bin.

You’re not alone, you again remind your fragile psyche. You have someone to help you stand. An ally, a haven, even if only for a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did this end up at 6,500 words when it's mostly just dialogue?
> 
> I debated a lot about whether to include Reader's breakdown or not since I went a little more experimental and abstract with the descriptions there. In the end, I felt like it should be there to illustrate just how broken Reader was, but I'm still a bit nervous about whether it's too hard to digest ^^;
> 
> Either way, Levi and Reader's budding feelings! It's a slow burn, albeit maybe not in how long it takes to catch feelings but more on the department of how long it takes for our two pining leads to act on them ^^; And Zeke is apparently a thirsty boi as well, and not for his own fiancée but his little brother's. Whoops.
> 
> Anyway, I'm pretty sure you already know how much I love comments and how much they motivate me to keep going. I'd love to hear your thoughts on everything that's going on in this chapter, so if you have time and like a productive author, please consider dropping a line! ^^


	8. Betrayal

”And then, the Duchess of Gordina, stricken by grief and heartbreak, actually cast herself off a cliff into the foamy, dark currents below!”

It’s only when she’s engrossed in raving about whichever romance novel she’s recently been reading that Historia becomes this animated. You watch her small hands, excitedly gesturing at you as she talks.

You’re sitting on your balcony together, basking in the afternoon sun with a cup of that grassy-smelling tea in hand.

Below, you see soldiers pasturing by in the barren backyard, some pausing to give you two a small, annoyed look as you laugh and chatter, not caring about how your voices echo in the usually so dreary castle grounds.

It’s day six since you woke up. Luckily, Historia has visited you almost daily since she got the news that you’re awake. Discussions with her, while shallow and concerning mundane and frivolous things, do a lot to keep you sane and happy.

Whilst sitting on the balcony like this, on the wooden chairs Maid Springer was kind enough to provide you with so you can spend time outside, sipping on that grassy tea you’ve only now started to get used to, you can almost feel normal.

“What did the Archduke do then?” you ask and lean in earnestly. You hear Levi snort in the background where he’s leaning against the doorframe. His usual position. He firmly believes that romance novels are a waste of paper and that discussing them in such detail is a horribly boring pastime.

“He tried to follow, but Ms Hilde, the wet nurse of his child, stopped him!” Historia grins. “And so he spent the rest of his days looking after his son, forever pining for the only woman he ever loved.”

Both of you sigh dreamily at the absolute tragedy she described. From the corner of your eye, you see Levi give you a calm look, accustomed to your blatherings but none the less disgusted.

“Have you read anything lately?” she asks. You give her suffering grin.

“Song of Steel.”

“Still? Do you intend to finish the whole book?” she asks, taken aback.

“If I want to do any good as a _czarevna_, I need to be knowledgeable about the country I’m a part of,” you explain. Historia gives you a small smile.

“Not many could just pick up where they left off and keep going after being attacked like that. It’s impressive,” she compliments. You shake your head.

“I have got no other choice,” you admit. “If I leave now, my father and the Czar’s negotiations will have been in vain.”

Historia turns thoughtful. She’s obviously a little apprehensive.

“May I ask?”

“What is it?“

“How do you feel about Eren? Your fiancé? He still hasn’t visited you, has he?”

You hum and lean back on your chair. You look at the bright sun. This Solar year has really pampered you with lots of sunshine.

It’s just Levi and Historia within earshot, so you might as well be honest.

“I do think it is rather callous of him to not as much as send me a letter when I have almost lost my life thanks to this marriage. I do not hate him nor do I really even mind marrying him – I have been raised with the idea of marrying whomever my father chooses for me and as far as all possible candidates go, I’m glad I get to marry someone who is around my age and not abusive.”

Historia nods knowingly. She offers you a sympathetic smile.

“I’m sure Eren will come around. He just needs to get used to you,” she offers words of empty encouragement.

You chuckle and shake your head.

“I do not think that will happen, but it is alright. I have come to terms with it.”

You meet Historia’s compassionate eyes calmly. She gives you a gentle smile.

“Well, no matter what, I will be your ally, Cora,” she promises and extends her hand towards you. You press your palm against hers in a familiar gesture. You smile.

She’s right. Your fiancé may not care, but you have others who do.

Hange and Armin barged in yesterday with the pretence of offering Levi a trivial upgrade he obviously didn’t need. They then ended up staying and spending a good hour just entertaining you. The story of how Hange first got into Alchemy and how her first ritual was turning her father’s prized bottle of wine into cheap juice, to the utmost horror and fury of her old man, still brings a smile to your face.

Maid Springer makes sure you eat and bathe every day. She fusses over you in a manner so mother-like that you can’t help but grow attached to her. Being torn away from your birth mother so violently, it’s only natural you feel drawn to the loving care.

And then there’s Levi. He hasn’t left your side since. Stoic and calm as always, he stays by you day and night. As you fall asleep each night, your heart is pounding just a little bit with the knowledge that he’s standing watch by the door, nothing but intimate darkness keeping you apart.

When you wake up with the first rays of sunshine, he’s exactly where he was when you drifted off. You don’t know when he sleeps, or if he does at all.

When you came here, you were alone and lost. Now, however, you have people who are on your side. You just need to stay reminded of that.

A knock on your door interrupts your pleasant conversation with Historia.

“Your grace! A letter!” you hear a familiar voice from the corridor.

“Come in,” you call to the door as you get on your feet and walk back to your chambers. Historia follows you.

The door cracks open, and Connie peeks his suspicious face in. Looking around, he soon lets out a long sigh of relief and walks inside.

“That scared of your mommy being here and reprimanding you for the mud stains on your ass?” Sasha, who saunters in after Connie, teases him. You see the corner of Levi’s eye twitch at the crude language.

The unruliness of Sasha and Connie always puts him in a sour mood.

“You have no idea what I have endured with my ma,” Connie whimpers and shudders. You look over his attire and indeed, it is obviously splotched and dirty.

“Did you traverse to Novaryn again?” you ask. Both of them spring to you and salute in unison.

“Yes, ma’am! We hereby bring you a letter with the royal seal!” Sasha announces importantly. You draw up an eyebrow. They’re usually not this formal.

“We went through trials and tribulations to bring you this letter, your grace!” Connie continues. He reaches for the brown leather pouch hanging at his hips and rummages for a moment until he finds the right letter.

Handing it to you, he smiles widely.

“Always a pleasure to serve, ma’am!”

You blink at them and take the letter.

“Thank you,” you offer. As you turn away to saunter to your desk for a letter knife, you feel their eyes keenly follow you. You ignore them and grab the knife.

You rip the letter open and take out the thick parchment.

“Did you have something else with her?” you hear Levi’s sharp voice address the two messengers. You raise your gaze to see both of them slump a little.

“No, sir,” they sigh, looking dejected all of a sudden. You frown at them as they start trudging towards the door.

Then, you suddenly understand and you can’t help the small grin that rises to your cheeks.

“Maid Springer was kind enough to bring me ripe plums this morning. I could not possibly eat all of them by myself, so would you care to-?”

“Yes, ma’am!” they both spring in front of you with excited expressions.

“The fruit you gave us the last time, it was... It was…” Sasha struggles to come up with an adjective grand enough.

“Heavenly!” Connie cuts in.

“Ooh, that’s it! Heavenly!” Sasha agrees with an eager nod. You look at their tomfoolery, a little taken aback but undeniably entertained.

You grab a few plums from the basket on your vanity and hand them over to the two.

“Thank you for the letter,” you smile. They take the fruit with enchanted smiles.

“Plums! Real, imported plums!” Connie rejoices. Sasha sniffles back moved tears.

You don’t get it. It’s just fruit. Then again, you don’t seem to understand a lot of the struggles local commoners go through.

“I thank you, your grace!” Connie exclaims and kneels down to dramatically take your hand and kiss it, far too wetly to fit the etiquette. You have to stifle an amused giggle.

Levi’s had enough at this point. He marches to the two, grabs the backs of their military jackets and shoves them towards the door.

“You got what you came here for and you delivered the letter. Get out,” he snaps. Historia presses her hand to her lips and chuckles a little as Connie and Sasha hurry to salute and run out with their prize.

“A lively couple, aren’t they?” she remarks gently. She then turns for the door herself.

“The letter is probably from your family. I’ll leave you to it. I can visit again tomorrow if you’d like?”

“Please,” you answer. It gives you something to look forward to.

Historia nods and then excuses herself. Left alone in the room with Levi, you turn your attention to the letter.

“Do you have to humour them so much? They’re bound to turn insufferable if you keep spoiling them,” Levi complains. Giving him a nonchalant hum, you unfold the letter.

“It is poor manners to waste food and I would not have eaten all of those plums either way,” you reply as you start reading through the text.

_Cora,_

_It has come to my attention that you have not written anyone in Novaryn in quite some time. Please, at least let us know you are faring alright._

_I understand that you may feel angry about my last letter but try to understand my circumstances. We are walking a diplomatic tightrope with Varsiko._

_Should it be of any consolation to you, I will keep an eye out for the woman you requested, and should she come my way and a suitable exchange of prisoners happen to be arranged, I can attempt to send her back to Varsiko._

_This is all I can do. Please, let me know you are alright, Cora, I worry for my little sister._

_Your mother is beside herself with worry as well._

_Love always (always, please remember that),  
Sirius_

As you read over the worried words, you suddenly feel weak. It takes you a second to name the feeling, the pining dizziness in your brain, before you realise you’re homesick.

You clutch the letter to your chest and wobble just a little with the intense emotions. Any annoyance you may have felt towards him melts away, and all you’re left with is longing.

Oh, how you wish you could tell him everything. About the letters, about how cold your fiancé is towards you, how the future Czar harasses you, how someone already attempted to take your life.

You want to pour it all out, you want to ask him to take you back home from here, to where it’s warm and safe. Back to the bright, ancient castle with countless hallways left unexplored, with absent-minded priests walking by and greeting you with a murmur of prayer, with children playing freely in the luscious gardens while their mothers watch while hiding under their parasols to shield their skin from the sun, with the fertile fields that produce such fragrant flowers and fruit that during the summer, you can smell it all the way to your room.

The ancient forests, stretching far beyond the horizon in the distance, the Twin Mountains you used to spend your nights watching, imagining the strangest of beasts that could potentially live deep within its caverns.

You miss it dearly. All of it.

With a deep, shaky breath, you try to smother the feeling. Before you can, however, you feel a familiar hand place on your hair. Observant as always, Levi has caught onto what you’re feeling.

“It’s okay to miss home, little miss,” he tells you steadily. He pats the top of your head a couple of times.

You look up at him hopelessly and feel a familiar urge to leap against him and hug him tight. To raise your head, your eyes meeting his, your lips brushing together-

No.

You shove the thought aside. You keep your hands at bay and just allow yourself the fleeting moment of his comfort. When he pulls back, you don’t stop him.

“I will be alright,” you promise both yourself and him. He nods.

You walk to the desk and sit down. As you take out a parchment and start writing, your hand doesn’t tremble.

_Sirius,_

_Dearest brother (and mother, I know you will read this as well). I’m sorry I have been so quiet lately. Truth be told, a lot of things have happened._

You can sense Levi tensing alertly as he reads the letter over your shoulder.

_Every day is just filled with so many activities. Shopping in town for new and exciting dresses, going out to balls and parties with my beloved fiancé, discussing the newest romance novels with my sister-in-law… I have been having so much fun that I simply forgot to write. Forgive me._

You pause and frown. You feel the tug in your chest to just tell the truth and let your brother handle things. He would arrange for your safe return should you just ask for it.

Biting your lip, you keep lying.

_I’m faring just fine here. In fact, life is quite enjoyable. There is no need to worry about me at all. Dearest brother and mother, I hope you are doing alright. I will try to remember to write home every week from now on._

_Thank you for keeping an eye out for Belle Lindt, brother. I know it was selfish of me to request something like that and knowing that you are trying your best to accommodate me makes my heart sink with fondness._

_I hope you are well. May the Creator bless you with His favour._

_Love always,  
Cora_

You feel Levi’s eyes on you as you seal the letter and walk towards the balcony.

“You’re not allowed to use the hawk until your charges are cleared,” Levi tells you. You pause and sigh. Figures. You’ll just have to ask Maid Springer to send the letter tomorrow, then.

“You’re a good liar.”

You turn to give him raised eyebrow.

“Is that a compliment?” you ask, confused. Levi shrugs.

“In politics, the ability to lie convincingly is almost as important as intelligence and charisma.”

You sigh and slump down on your bed.

“I hate politics.”

“That makes two of us,” Levi announces. You chuckle humourlessly and blink at the dull ceiling. Pushing down the traumatic memory it triggers, of the weight of the guard on top of you, the metallic smell of blood and his dead eyes honed on you, you instead turn your attention to Levi.

“So, how are we going to get to the bottom of these letters?” you ask. The last few days, Levi has not brought it up and you’ve been too tired to think of it.

“I have been keeping an ear out for letters during the nights,” Levi tells you. “Should one arrive one of these nights, I was planning on pursuing whoever sends the letter.”

“By yourself?” you ask. Levi looks a bit frustrated.

“This is where my dilemma comes in. I’m under orders to stay by your side at all times. I haven’t decided how to solve that problem yet.”

“I can sleep fully clothed, you can wake me up and we can pursue together?”

“Breaking your room arrest is against the protocol, I would be held liable,” Levi protests. You sit up on the bed and cross your legs carelessly.

“You can leave me alone. I do not mind.”

“No.”

“Then, take me with you.”

“No.”

“What are you, a youngling throwing a temper tantrum?” you huff. “Those are your two options. Pick between them. Unless you want to wait until I’m out of room arrest.”

“Once you’re out of room arrest, the person delivering the letters will have the opportunity to wait until your room is empty to deliver the letters. While you’re confined, he’ll have no choice but to try and deliver the letters undetected.”

“What if he will not deliver any while I’m under arrest?”

“There’s always a chance of that happening. But should the opportunity arise to follow whoever delivers those letters, we should take it.”

“Then, what do you want to do?” you ask. Levi thinks it over, clearly hating both the thought of leaving you unguarded and dragging you along for a stealth mission. Eventually, he groans.

“Fine. I’ll take you with me.”

“I will start sleeping in decent clothes, then,” you decide.

“You can’t run around the hallways undetected in your normal attire,” Levi points out. “Your skirts and heels make noise, not to mention it’s impractical for running.”

You stand up and walk to your dresser. Opening the drawers, you start going through your clothes. Most of them are long dresses, but the outfit you wore to town should still be somewhere in there.

Finally, you find the bland-looking brown dress and ordinary boots. You show them to Levi.

“Would these fare better?”

He nods. You place the clothes on top of the drawer. Levi’s eyes pause on your neck and suddenly, he seems oddly content.

“What?” you ask and tilt your head.

“The kiss mark is gone,” he remarks. You instinctively touch the spot that Zeke sucked. The skin is still tender thanks to the bruises, now turning yellow and fading.

“Oh. That is good.”

Levi walks a bit closer, looking very pensive. As if the sight of your bruised neck reminds him of something. He gently grasps your chin to tilt your head up and double-check the skin where Zeke’s lips landed those days ago.

You feel a pleasant shudder go through you and suddenly, you’re a bit short of breath. You stay completely still as he leans closer, so close you can feel his nose softly bump against a tender bruise on your throat.

Your eyes widen at the sudden intimacy. You have no doubt he can feel your pulse, thundering under the skin his lips are now brushing against just a bit.

His name dies on your lips before you can say it out loud, afraid you’ll break whatever spell he seems to be under.

“When he did that,” Levi murmurs, his low voice vibrating against your heated skin, “I was angry.”

You tremble just a little as you feel his breath against the spot. So close, all he needs to do is lean in and place his lips on your skin, and you’ll throw your head back and surrender to him.

“Why?” you ask, voice throaty and laboured.

Levi pauses for a long moment.

“Because you’re not his to touch,” he finally replies and in his tone is heavy realisation. He pulls away and steps back. You look up to meet his conflicted eyes.

“Levi,” you whisper. “I do not care whose I officially am to touch. Who my heart belongs to, I shall decide on my own.”

_Just please touch me. Love me. Because no one else has._

You reach a pining hand towards him, but before you can place it on his jaw, he swats it away. You look into the stormy grey of his eyes.

“You’re misunderstanding things,” he tells you, forcing his face dull and void of emotion. You swallow, something cold trickling down your spine at his hostility. You know he’s not telling you the whole truth, but his words have awoken a side of you that you cannot stifle.

_Unwanted_, it tells you. _By your father, by Novaryn, by Varsiko, by Eren and now even by the man of your affections._

You hide the hurt with that empty, impersonal smile.

“Alright,” you accommodate him and pull your hand away. “Forgive me. For stepping out of line.”

Levi grits his teeth, and he suddenly looks like he’s in pain.

You turn to walk away, but he pulls you in before you can. You fall into his embrace, his face pressing into the curls of your hair for the sweetest of moments.

“Little miss,” his voice is oddly strangled and thin. “Don’t give me that smile. It pains me.”

You nuzzle your nose against the coarse cotton of his cape. The scent of soap, fresh air and the hint of something metallic you can’t quite name.

“Why does it pain you?” you ask, your hands resting against his chest with such ease. It feels natural and right. Like you belong here. Your heart hums in agreement.

Levi merely shakes his head to discard your question. His arms tighten around your waist just the smallest bit before he pulls away.

Eyes unreadable once more, he turns to go back to his post at the door.

“Don’t mind me, little miss. I’ve just been feeling unlike myself lately,” he deflates the tension. You watch him walk away, chest ringing with a light, dreamy feeling.

You allow him, but you don’t know how long it will be before these new, overwhelming feelings boil over and you can no longer keep yourself in check.

-

It’s almost a week later when Levi shakes you awake in the dead of night.

You moan sleepily. Sitting up, you rub your groggy eyes and fix them on Levi. He gestures for you to get up and follow him.

Immediately, you’re wide awake. Without a word, you pull on the boots waiting next to the bed and do as you’re told.

Levi has his ear against the door, listening. You try to do the same, but you don’t have his enhanced senses.

Levi listens intently for a few seconds and then turns to you.

“He just left, I can hear his footsteps receding. Keep quiet and stay behind me,” he murmurs into your ear with a low voice. You shudder a bit when you feel his breath against the shell of your ear.

He noiselessly opens the door and slips outside. You keep a hand over your mouth to stifle any noises you might make and follow him.

The hallways are quiet and dark, with just a few scattered lanterns lighting up parts of it. You squint, but you can’t make up anything in the darkness as Levi quickly pulls you away from the light and starts leading you where he can see the person now moving.

Keeping you firmly in the shadows, Levi leads the way. Twice, you fall behind as you struggle to move through the dark hallways as quick as him, until he grabs your hand and places it on the back of his cape, signalling for you to hold onto him and let him pave the way.

You grasp his cape between your fingers and thanks to him clearing the path for you, you can scurry behind him without issues.

It feels like an eternity as you move without a word. Every now and then, Levi stops abruptly to either avoid detection or to locate the mysterious figure, concealed by the darkness, moving through the corridors.

Eventually, Levi stops for longer than usual. It’s so dark you can’t make out what’s around you, and you’re disoriented from all the sharp turns. Thus, you can’t tell which part of the castle you’re in.

“The person went inside that room,” Levi leans to whisper in your ear and gestures towards something in the darkness.

You can’t make out which room it is, but Levi obviously can, because there’s something very unsettled in his voice.

“Let’s move in and eavesdrop what’s going on inside. Stay quiet. Don’t even breathe if you can help it,” he tells you. You nod.

Levi leads you to the dark door and helps you lean your ear against it.

_“It’s risky delivering the letters while she’s still under charges,”_ you hear a muffled male voice. _“What if Levi saw her?”_

_“She can shrug pursuers. Not to mention it’s pitch black outside,”_ another voice comments, this one female. _“Just how long is the Czar going to keep her confined anyway?”_

_“At this point, it’s obvious my old man is going to keep her under arrest to keep her from using hawks and telling her family about this until he can prove this was a singular case. Her mail is probably being monitored as well.”_

_“He sure is being overly cautious.”_

_“I still think you took it too far. I agreed to get rid of her, I didn’t agree to kill her,”_ the male voice points out, obviously displeased.

_“She ignored the letters. I’m running out of time. I panicked,”_ the female voice defends herself. _“She’s much tougher than she lets on. It’s starting to really unnerve me.”_

_“Do we have to kill her?”_

_“If she doesn’t break otherwise.”_

_“What’s her mental state like?”_

_“She’s started befriending people, by now she has a support network. Not to mention her guard practically living by her side. At this point, I’m running out of ideas on how to handle this mess.”_

_“Anything I can do?”_

_“Unless you’re willing to be even nastier to her-”_

_“No. I told you, I’m only doing this much because I know how much this means to you,”_ the male voice cuts in. You hear the woman sigh deeply, clearly frustrated.

_“If you could only put a little more pressure-”_

_“I’m not going to do that, I already feel terrible as is. Forget it.”_ he raises his voice a little. You just listen, gaping.

_“Fine! If you’re not going to help me, then please leave! I have no use for you right now and I have a lot to do!”_ you hear her snap.

A tense silence falls in the room.

_“Alright, then._” His voice sounds cold and closed off.

_“Ah, no. I didn’t mean to say that. Wait!"_ she immediately realises her mistake.

You hear footsteps come closer. Before you can even fathom the thought of reacting and hiding, Levi has grabbed you, covered your mouth and nose with his hand and dragged you away from the door. He swiftly walks you back until you arrive at a corner. He shoves you to hide behind it.

In unison, you peek as you hear a door crack open. In the darkness of the night, you’re only offered the light from inside the room.

You see a brown-haired boy march out with an annoyed frown on his face. Quietly following him is a girl in a red cape, face expressionless as always. The boy makes it just a few purposeful strides until someone follows him and wraps both arms tightly around his waist.

“Eren,” the blonde woman begs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. Please don’t go. This has been stressful for me and I’m not quite myself.”

Eren pauses. Were this you, he would without a doubt tear himself free and bark at you. Now, however, he turns with a sigh.

“Krista, I told you not to do this out in the open,” he tells her, and you can read the gentle sheen in his eyes just fine.

“No one’s seeing this,” she murmurs back as she hides her face in Eren’s shirt. Your eyes slide to Mikasa, who’s standing aside and watching quietly. You’re not sure if you’re imagining it, but you could swear she looks… A little pained?

Historia clings to Eren tightly and when she finally pulls back from the hug, her eyes are glistening and vulnerable.

“Don’t go,” she whispers. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Eren opens his mouth to respond but before he can get the word out, you accidentally tap the heel of your boot against the wooden corridor floor. The sound is barely audible, but despite that Mikasa immediately draws her sword.

Eren and Historia fall quiet as Mikasa starts moving towards the source of the noise. You feel Levi’s hand tighten over your mouth as he pulls you back just a little bit, against his chest as he leans against the hallway wall.

There’s no way you can move further back at this distance without her hearing. You just need to hope she doesn’t spot you.

She walks closer in the tense silence, keeping an eye out for anything and everything. You don’t even dare to breathe as you lean against Levi, eyes wide, not just with the adrenaline of almost being caught, but also with everything you’ve witnessed so far.

Levi moves his free hand to the handle of his sword, ready to draw it should things go wrong. Mikasa gets closer. She passes you by and walks by the corner you’re hiding behind, continuing forward down the corridor instead, and for a precious second, you think you’re off the hook.

Then, she turns her head abruptly, as if sensing you’re there. It takes her eyes a few seconds to make out the darkness, even with her augmentations.

Her calm eyes meet yours where you’re standing, eyes wide and Levi’s hand covering your mouth. Your whole body tenses up. What if Levi and Mikasa start brawling here and your whole plan goes to waste? What will happen when Historia and Eren find out you know? Will they kill you? Will they kill Levi?

You hear your heart pounding in your chest. Levi’s tense and ready behind you.

Then, to your utter confusion, Mikasa presses her index finger against her lips, signalling for you to stay quiet. She gives Levi a small nod and turns to go back.

“Mikasa? Is someone there?” Historia asks. Relaxed, Mikasa walks back to the two and shakes her head.

“No. False alarm.”

“Let’s get back inside either way,” Eren decides. Historia grasps his arm and holds onto it tightly. The three of them retreat into the room. The door closes after them, leaving you in darkness again.

As the adrenaline wears off, your knees buckle. You take a deep breath.

The sting of betrayal is not instantaneous, but when it finally hits, it knocks the breath right out of your lungs. You feel dizzy, like someone punched you in the gut with an augmented fist.

You feel Levi’s worried hand on your back, rubbing between the shoulder blades as you take support from the wall.

It’s not the fact that Eren and Historia are obviously very personally acquainted. It’s not the fact that by the looks of it, Mikasa has been the one delivering the letters. It’s not the fact that Eren’s complete indifference towards you is a part of the plan.

It’s the fact that Historia, the first and closest friend you made in this castle, is behind this. As you struggle to breathe, you quickly count all the times she’s been in your room, looking you dead in the eye, worried, asking how you’re faring while secretly planning ways to be rid of you.

You imagine her going up to the guard and with her melodic voice and honeyed tongue, manipulating him into strangling you in your sleep.

You feel sick to your stomach. You feel like hurling. You look up at Levi in the darkness, and his compassionate yet completely unsurprised eyes tell you that he already suspected this but kept his mouth shut to protect your psyche. He didn’t want to say it out loud unless it was proven to be true because you liked Historia and leant on her.

Once again, you were the naïve, dumb little child who was the last to catch onto things. Like a fool, you trusted her.

You shake your head, dejected.

“Take me back, Levi,” you murmur and loop your arms around his neck. Your legs don’t carry. Without a word, he picks you up and makes way back towards your chambers.

You press your face to his neck. You don’t know what else to do, so you just hold on and allow his warmth to engulf you.

As you enter your room, Levi gently places you down on your bed before going to fetch the letter from where Mikasa left it outside your door.

He opens and scans through the contents as you burrow under your blankets and curl up.

“Anything worth noting?” you mutter into your knees.

“Torture, strangulation, death, next time you won’t be so lucky, it’s a standard death threat,” he tells you dully. You wrap your arms around your legs and disappear completely under the covers.

Levi watches the lump under the blanket and finally gives in to the tug in his chest. He sits down on the edge of your bed and places a gentle hand on top of where he estimates your shoulder to be.

“We need a plan,” he tells you. You murmur something incomprehensible.

“The czarevich’s guard knows we’re aware of their involvement. It was only a lucky whim of her mind that saved us there,” he says.

“Then what do you suggest we do?” You emerge from under the blankets to give him a tired look. “Kill her?” you offer with a dry chuckle.

Levi pauses for just a tad too long.

“Levi, we are not going to kill her. I refuse to stoop to their level,” you tell him with an exasperated sigh.

“She’s a liability,” he argues.

“And what if she already told Eren about this? She will have died for nothing.”

“It’s odds we probably should take,” Levi says. You shake your head.

“No. We will not repay her for covering for us by killing her.”

“Fine. Whatever you say, little miss,” Levi sighs and rolls his eyes. You watch him cross his arms and straighten his back where he’s sitting, one leg resting over the other.

You have a fleeting thought. You both now know that Eren wasn’t planning on being loyal to you from the start. So, according to all logic, you could now be disloyal to him in return without it being considered morally wrong.

“Then, what do you suggest we do?” Levi asks. “Do you want to confront the czarevich and czarevna?”

You think it over. You could just summon both of them to your chambers and demand to know what’s going on. But, it could easily backfire. Historia and Eren, ultimately, have not only the Czar and Zeke but the whole military behind them.

It’s you and Levi against the whole castle now, aside from a minuscule amount of acquaintances you have, most of which you want to keep out of this. The thought of involving Maid Springer or Connie in this makes you feel terrible. You want to protect their smiles.

“We do nothing,” you finally decide. Levi jolts.

“What?”

You meet his scandalised eyes calmly. If Historia thinks she’s the only one who can put on a good show, she’s sorely mistaken.

“I want to keep both eyes open and get to the bottom of this undetected. Until then, we act as if we know nothing. If Mikasa tells Eren and Historia that we know, we shall deal with the aftermath then. But for now, we stay put.”

Levi weighs his options but ultimately decides not to fight you on this. Instead, he plops a familiar hand on your head.

“Going to pretend like you’re fine and dandy just as you always do?” he asks, and only because you’ve spent so much time with him can you salvage the small, buried nugget of fondness he’s trying to hide under his stoic mien. You nod and offer him a tired smile.

“I’m a good liar, remember?”

The emotions are there. The hurt, the betrayal, the heartbreak, just aching to come out, but you stubbornly push all of it down.

Though, Levi sees right through you. With a sigh, he pulls you over and settles you on his lap.

“It’s okay, little miss. You don’t need to hide right now. It’s just me,” he reminds you, his lips pressed against your hairline.

It’s just Levi. Your stoic, cold yet undeniably gentle and compassionate guard. The man who sends your heart racing and makes you feel light and soft when he’s near.

You close your eyes and inhale his comforting scent with a deep breath.

Immediately, the dam breaks. You press against him, and when the first sob tears from your mouth, followed by a series of sniffles and wails, all he does is hold you through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. Sorry. I know y'all liked the thought of Reader and Historia being bffs ^^;
> 
> How many thought it was Zeke? How many of you were suspicious of our good girl Historia? How many were suspicious of Eren? How many thought that for sure it had to be Moblit because come on, dude's pretty suspicious?
> 
> I love comments, so feel free to shout at me down below for ruining the beautiful, budding friendship (or if you really hate EreHisu I guess)! (Or on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SquibblesMcGoo)/[Tumblr](https://heichoudaddery.tumblr.com) if you so desire!). Everything shall be accepted with open arms!
> 
> Until next time~! Love you all!


	9. The Chip

After you found out the truth about Historia, you cried deep into the night. Levi held you close as you let all of your feelings out and by the time you buried under the covers, exhausted, it was almost crack of dawn.

Now, the castle is awake and buzzing around Levi as he stands guard by the door. Eyes fixed ahead, he idly listens to the bustling outside. Chattering maids walking by, alchemists on their way to Wing of Science, people that he doesn’t deem a threat.

When the first moan sounds in the room, he thinks you’re having yet another nightmare. Not that he would blame you given the circumstances. His eyes flicker to you for just a moment, but after you remain quiet for a few seconds, he turns his gaze back ahead.

When the second moan comes, he looks at you longer. He’s heard you moan and sob in your sleep before. You tend to have nightmares as a result of everything that’s going on around you. This moan, however, carries a tint unknown to him.

He perks his ears, and when another soft moan tears from your throat and you turn over to your back in your sleep, he feels a rush go through him. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost think you’re moaning in-

_“Mmmmh.”_

The way you arch your back a bit, the seductive softness of your purring voice, it’s obvious that you’re not moaning in distress, but in pleasure. You’re having an erotic dream. His eyes widen and another rush goes right through him.

He takes a deep breath, and thanks to his enhanced senses, he can faintly smell the arousal in the air. He can almost taste it, and suddenly it’s very difficult for him to keep himself in check.

Alert and tentative yet unable to stop himself, as if bewitched, he slowly walks to the bed where you’re lying, your arms resting above your head and your blankets kicked down to only cover you from hips down.

He sees the way you’ve shifted enough in your sleep to have your nightgown move up, exposing a part of your stomach.

You moan again, your legs rubbing against each other just a bit. Levi groans, he feels a reaction in his body, one that he can’t control. He slowly sits down on the edge of the bed.

Another deep breath and he can smell the irresistible smell of your arousal. The scent is thick and alluring in the air, sweet as honey, and before Levi realises what he’s doing, he’s reached a hand towards you.

He wants to touch you. He wants to grab your arms, pin them down and nudge his nose against your neck where he can smell your odour the strongest, the floral-scented soap, soft cotton and the scent of something foreign and exotic, the scent of a faraway land. While new, the scent is also somehow oddly comforting to him, as if he’s smelt it somewhere before, even if it’s only in his pining dreams.

You’re still deep asleep as he places a feather-like hand on your hair. He leans in and it’s only when his lips are almost brushing against yours that he can stop himself.

“Little miss,” he whispers, voice pained and raspy and so, so longing. “If you only knew what you’re doing to me… How much I just want to-”

He trails off and closes his eyes, trying to will his arousal to dispel.

“Levi.”

You’re not awake, but as if sensing his presence, you’re now wantonly calling for him. Levi freezes. And then, he cracks.

His pupils dilate, he surges forward with nothing but animal-like hunger. He needs to touch. To conquer. To press you down into the soft cushions and mark your neck, inhale your intoxicating scent and trail his hand up your smooth leg, to the source of your arousal-

The only thing that keeps him from doing exactly that is the door opening and closing. He turns abruptly and freezes.

His eyes lock with Maid Springer. Sharp-looking as always, she’s come in to wake you up and prepare you for the day.

With a new, wooden hairbrush in one hand that you requested to be brought in yesterday thanks to the bristles of the previous brush wearing out, she pauses and takes in the sight.

You, defenceless on the bed. Levi leaned over you, a longing hand extended towards you, frozen midway. Your nightgown pulled up and exposing some of your stomach.

She blinks.

Then, with surprising accuracy, she calmly hurls the brush across the room straight into Levi’s forehead.

It doesn’t exactly _hurt_ since his skull is essentially metal, but it makes him jolt and quickly move off you with a look of annoyance.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, woman?” he barks as he gets on his feet.

“That’s what I should be asking you, sonny,” she retorts and zooms across the room. “Creeping on your princess while she’s sleeping, huh? Is that it? I thought you soldiers were supposed to be honourable folk but look at this! Beasts! Utter beasts!” she nags, agitated, and repeatedly pokes Levi’s chest with each accusation.

“I was not creeping on her,” Levi denies with a frustrated groan.

“And you expect me to believe that? I was not born yesterday, sonny! I know what you men are like with your everlasting appetite for young women! But to do that to a defenceless girl and a royal on top of that! Younglings these days, such a lack of respect…”

The commotion makes you stir and open your eyes. You take a moment to gather your bearings before you sit up and scratch your unruly hair.

“Levi? Maid Springer? Whatever are you arguing about?” you ask, confused and still a little disoriented from the sleep.

“Tell her and you’re dead, lady,” Levi warns her with a low voice, but she’s not even humouring the idea of listening to him.

“Your guard is a boor, that’s what,” she squawks angrily and keeps poking at Levi’s chest, to his absolute displeasure.

“A boor?” you frown.

“And that’s being too kind!” she adds for good measure. “I walked in on him trying to touch you in your sleep!”

You turn to look at Levi, more surprised than disturbed. You look down, and when you realise your nightgown is not covering you properly, you quickly blush and move it back down.

“I was not touching her,” Levi argues through gritted teeth. “She was moaning in her sleep. She does that sometimes when she has nightmares, so I was going to do what I usually do.” He’s lying, but you don’t need to know that.

“And what is that you usually do?” Maid Springer crosses her arms.

“Comfort her,” Levi breathes, irritated.

“By?” she keeps pressing.

“By petting her hair and talking to her,” Levi snaps, clearly feeling very awkward about it. “You happy now, woman?”

Oh.

The knowledge makes you equal parts touched and confused. It sends your mood soaring, but also makes your heart flutter with sudden shyness.

“I don’t buy it,” Maid Springer huffs and narrows her eyes at Levi.

“I don’t care if you do, all I care about is what the little miss thinks,” Levi shoots back. “No one asked you to be a busybody.”

“A busybody! The audacity of you, telling me I’m in the wrong when I’m looking out for my princess! Poor girl is recovering from a murder attempt, you should be happy there are two of us with her best interests at heart! A busybody!” she keeps badgering while shaking her head. “No respect for one’s elders these days! A busybody! I was alive when you weren’t even a thought in your father’s mind, sonny, you’re thirty years too young to be calling me names-!”

“Thank you, Maid Springer,” you interrupt her with a fond smile. “I appreciate your concern for me, but it is alright. I believe him. Perhaps you misunderstood his intentions.”

You’re grateful, you really are. In fact, you’re touched by her worry. But you don’t want her to concern herself with this.

She pauses, gives you a long look and when she catches the way your eyes shyly flicker towards Levi for just a moment and your cheeks flush, she ultimately lets it go and teeters to the door to go get your breakfast while muttering to herself.

You give Levi one, questioning look but when he shakes his head, clearly asking you to drop it, you obey and continue your morning routines as usual.

When Historia steps in a few hours later, you and Levi are prepared. You’re lying on your bed leisurely, browsing through _Song of Steel_, and as Levi admits Historia in, you raise a friendly hand to greet her.

“Hi! Just a second, I’m in the middle of a chapter. Feel free to go to the balcony, I’ll be right there with you. Levi, call for Maid Springer and ask her to bring us some tea,” you instruct him.

Nothing is off with Historia’s smile as she bustles inside. You inconspicuously glance at her a few times as she moves to the balcony. If Mikasa told her everything and she knew that you know of her misdoings, would she let you in on the fact?

As Levi opens the door to call for Maid Springer, you see a glimpse of Thomas Wagner, Historia’s guard, who’s standing outside. You wonder how much he knows. Last night, he was nowhere to be seen when you went snooping. Maybe he was away on an errand, or maybe he was inside the room, quietly watching the conspiracy unfold.

You wonder what Eren and Historia did last night after they went back inside. Did they engage in indecent intercourse? Did they cuddle? Hug and kiss perhaps?

As much as the thought should upset you, as Eren’s fiancée, you find yourself rather indifferent. You and Eren were never going to be romantically involved, anyway. At the most, you would consummate enough times to conceive a child in order to prove you’ve done it.

You wait until Maid Springer has come in, poured both of you a steaming mug of tea and excused herself, with Levi back in your chambers, before you close the book, get on your feet and saunter to the balcony.

It’s early afternoon. The Solar year is still proving to be one of the warmest in recent Varsikovian history. You notice Historia is even getting a little tanned from the sunshine.

You sit down on the wooden chair, painted bright red, and reach for your mug on the table between you. You brush your fingertips over the warm, coarse clay, along the golden paint going around the rough surface.

You take a sip and roll the grassy taste on your tongue. Once you get used to it, it’s actually rather soothing. You glance at Historia and give her a convincing smile.

This is a contest between you now. Of who has the better straight face. You know she has a head start with her years of experience in politics, but you happen to be a natural talent. At least according to Levi.

“How are things? Read anything interesting since yesterday?” you ask. Historia smiles as she looks into her tea mug.

“Nothing new I’m afraid. I didn’t have time to start a new novel yesterday.”

Yeah, because she was busy clinging to your fiancé. Despite the thought, your smile never falters.

“You seem troubled,” you remark. Historia snaps her head to the side to look at you, a little surprised.

“Troubled? Me?” she asks and then chuckles. “What makes you say that?”

“Call it a hunch. You read a lot, like me. I do it to distract myself, I just assumed you are the same way,” you offer with an innocent shrug.

You could be imagining it, but for a split second, you think you see some vulnerability in Historia’s eyes. A deeply seated sadness that she’s keeping from you. It feels akin to the Historia you saw after she told you about her origins. When she told you she would marry Zeke because that’s what she needs to do to help her country.

You idly realise that the reason Historia wrote the letters to be so eerily similar to Zeke’s tastes is probably that she knew what Zeke is into and wanted to misdirect you to suspect him.

She almost succeeded. You wonder if Historia has witnessed those perverse preferences of Zeke’s first hand and for a second you could almost feel sorry for her. Almost. If she wasn’t trying to kill you.

“I’m under a lot of stress,” Historia admits easily but her carefully rehearsed act is back on as she turns to you. “I always have to keep Nambalese interests at heart, even if at the moment I have no power.”

“Well, you are the future _Czarina_. You will wield power, even if only a little,” you try to cheer her up. She gives you an eerily convincing blue smile.

“One can only hope.”

“When is the wedding?” you suddenly ask. When you first came to the castle, the Czar said Historia and Zeke were to be wed in a few months’ time.

“You haven’t heard? The wedding is in three weeks,” Historia replies. She sips on her tea and takes a deep breath.

“Oh,” you utter. “How do you feel about that? You can be honest. It is just me.”

“And your guard,” she points out. You glance at Levi, who’s leaning against the doorframe to the balcony as per usual.

“I’m rather sure Levi does not care. Do you, Levi?”

“My interest in your feminine tittle-tattling is so minuscule I haven’t even got the faintest clue what you’re on about because I wasn’t listening,” Levi dully announces. You shrug sheepishly at Historia.

Historia glances over the railing, but when she sees no guards on the ground below, she dares to drop her smile for a while.

“I’m nervous about it. I know I’m expected to consummate the marriage right away to create a descendant to the throne. And Zeke-” Historia shudders a little. “I fear for what he’ll have me do to satiate him.”

You glance through the door to your chambers, at the desk where the letters are stored. If what she wrote in the letters is anything to go by, Zeke sure seems to have peculiar tastes. Enough so that you fully thought him capable of killing you even before the attempt-

Mid-thought, you get an idea.

You lean in, your expressive eyes on Historia, and you allow them to widen just a bit.

“What do you mean by that?” you ask and glance noticeably at the desk. Historia catches it and latches onto it.

“He’s rather sadistic,” she tells you, eyes searching through yours. “I heard he likes… He likes…” Historia trails off with a proper blush. She leans in to whisper the last details.

“Pain. Especially strangulation. I once saw a sketch of a collared maiden in his drawer,“ she fills you in with an embarrassed giggle. You lick your lips and look openly uneasy.

“Oh my,” you whisper shakily and cover your mouth with your hand, pretending deep shock. You close your eyes and take a few breaths.

“Are you alright, Cora?” Historia asks and tilts her head. She turns her gaze to Levi.

“She doesn’t seem to be doing fine. Maybe we should give her some rest.”

“I’m alright,” you deny weakly. “Just… Just a little disturbed, is all. You see, I have been receiving these letters…”

You see Levi perk up in the background. Historia, however, keeps her attention solely on you.

“Letters? What kind of letters?”

“Threats,” you murmur and hang your head. “The contents are… Kind of disturbing. Come, I will show you.”

Teetering to your desk, you take out the letters and show them to Historia. She takes them without a word and starts going through them.

You have to give it to her, she’s good. She lets out gasps at the right places, she looks appropriately disturbed and nauseated.

“And these… These came in before the attempt?” she asks with wide eyes. You nod and feign a troubled look.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“I did not know who to trust,” you admit. “But I trust you enough to let you know. I’m beside myself with worry. The anxiety is killing me. The days I have spent here in isolation have been filled with anguish and paranoia. I just do not know what to do anymore.”

You breathe out shakily and slump down on your bed, eyes cloudy and defeated.

“Historia, I’m scared. And what you just told me about Zeke… What if it is Zeke behind this? What if he catches me next time? What can I do against a future Czar in his own country?”

You grasp your neck and swallow thickly.

Historia grasps your hand gently and gives you a compassionate smile.

“Cora, I say this as your friend; this is worrying. You can’t let this go unaddressed.”

“What can I do? The Czar is dying his hardest to pin this on the guard whom I killed. If I bring this to his attention, he will brush it under the carpet.”

Historia is quiet in false contemplation. She then grasps your shoulder.

“Then, perhaps you should seek help from your home country. There must be someone in your family who can help.”

You bite your lip, troubled.

“My brother would start campaigning for my return if I told him, but I do not want to sabotage the marriage,” you murmur.

“Cora, your life is on the line. Maybe you should just… Consider it at least. Going back that is.”

You give her a torn look and a joyless smile. You stay silent and convincingly mull things over in your head. Finally, you sigh.

“I shall think about it.”

“Please, do. I would hate it if something happened to you,” she tells you earnestly. You could groan. Her act is really good.

When she leaves half an hour later, you let out a tired sigh and lay down on the bed.

“Hey.”

“What?” you ask Levi.

“What did you do that for?”

“Do what?” you play dumb with an idle smile on your face. He snorts and crosses his arms.

“Don’t play dumb, you know exactly what. Why did you tell her about the letters?”

You blink at the ceiling lazily and push aside the tug of anxiety that always reminds you of that horrible night.

“Yesterday, we saw that the _czarevich _is hesitant to kill me. Historia said she ordered me dead because she panicked since I was not cracking under pressure. So, I’m going to seemingly crack under pressure and hopefully, she will conclude that I’m about to break and refrain from future attempts on my life,” you explain.

Levi is quiet for a while and then snorts, obviously amused.

“So, you want to challenge her head on for a liars’ match?” he asks. You grin a little and sit up on the bed. You look at him where he’s standing by the door and tilt your head.

“Was my performance not up to par?” you ask while innocently batting your eyelashes. He raises an eyebrow.

“It was a good performance.”

With a chuckle, you open _Song of Steel_ back up and resume reading while Levi stands guard.

-

“Cora!”

As the door is slammed open and Hange pours in without as much as pausing to see if you’re decent, she’s instantly met with Levi’s sword to her throat.

Levi glares at her fiercely, but she doesn’t as much as blink as she casually waits for Levi to lower his weapon. Instead, she gives you a cheerful wave over Levi’s head, a fact that obviously pisses him off.

“Evening!” she calls with a grin. You blink at her, sitting at your desk with a pen and paper. You were in the midst of sketching the basket of fruit Maid Springer brought you this morning, more out of boredom than inspiration. It’s been two days since you started your little mind game with Historia, and things have been slow since.

“I came to see how you’re doing!” she announces as Levi reluctantly withdraws his weapon and admits her as you gesture for him to. She walks to the bed and sits down on it with zero regards to proper manners, immediately sighing dreamily.

“Such a soft mattress,” she hums and bounces a bit. “I swear ours are filled with rocks. Head of the Wing of Science and they can’t even give me a proper bed!”

You smile a little at her complaints. It’s not the first time she’s come to see you. You wonder if she’s come to see you as a friend, or if she’s here just to spy on Levi and see his augmentations.

“What brings you here?”

“Just needed a breather. It’s been rather hectic, we have a set of new recruits to overgo augmentations. The screaming gives me headaches,” she sighs. The look you give her is only slightly scandalised. You’ve come to expect words like this from Hange.

You glance at Levi, who’s stoically standing by the door. Hange was the person who augmented him. He was her first augmentation, in fact.

Suddenly, you recall the odd moment with Levi. The way he couldn’t tell you what Zeke meant when he said you are not the master that he’s loyal to. The gag and nausea he seemed to suffer from in response.

You look at Hange and wonder if she knows more. Let alone if she would be willing to let you in on it.

You glance at Levi again and suddenly, you want to find out. Hange, so far, has been exceptionally open with you about all things alchemy. Maybe she would tell you. It’s a slim chance, but you want to know.

“Levi, there is actually a book I would like to show her,” you call to Levi. “Would you care to fetch it for me from the library?”

Levi looks instantly suspicious. He crosses his arms and narrows his eyes.

“It is the elementary level alchemy book I tried to browse before the attempt, remember? The one that turned out to be too complicated for me to understand,” you tell him. “I was hoping she could explain a few things to me, but I cannot fetch the book myself thanks to the room arrest. You know where it is situated in the library, could you please go get it? If you are alright with explaining things to me,” you add to Hange as an afterthought.

“Sure, I don’t mind,” she easily agrees with a shrug.

There’s a long pause and finally, Levi moves for the door.

“Keep her safe while I’m gone,” he tells Hange, who snorts.

“I may be Wing of Science, but I still got basic training. This bad boy is all ready to go should the need arise,” she says and taps the small gun hanging at her hips.

Levi gives you one last wary look and disappears out of the door. You leap to your feet and go to the door. Pressing your ear against it, you make sure you hear Levi’s footsteps receding in the direction of the library. You then turn to Hange and walk up to her.

“I needed to talk to you in private,” you explain.

“I concluded,” she says. Crossing one leg over the other, she looks relaxed and not at all surprised. “So, what is it?”

“A few days ago, someone told me that I’m not Levi’s _master_. When I asked Levi to explain what that means, he said he cannot. When I pressed the issue, he looked nauseous and started gagging. Do you know what that was about?” you ask keenly.

Hange blinks at you.

“Oh. That.” she chuckles, looking a bit uneasy, and rubs her neck. “Yeah, I know what that’s about.”

“Can you share the information with me?”

Hange smiles sheepishly, considering it.

“Well, I’m not exactly forbidden from telling you, but-”

“Please,” you cut in. “He is my guard and the only person I want to truly trust in this castle. I need to know what he cannot tell me to feel safe with him,” you plead.

Hange watches you contemplatively for a moment longer before shrugging.

“It’s a little awkward,” she admits. “Since I’m the person who put it there. It’s his loyalty chip.”

“Loyalty chip?” You blink.

“When a person is augmented, a chip is inserted. That chip is programmed to make its bearers obey whoever it’s set to obey. As a result, the bearer can’t refuse a direct order from the _Beneficiary_ of the chip.”

“Who is the Beneficiary?” you ask.

“It depends on the carrier and it’s often reprogrammed as the augmented soldiers switch to work under different people. Levi’s Beneficiary is currently the Czar, it was set that way when he was appointed your guard.”

“So, you have the power to change the loyalty?” you ask slowly. You try to wrap your head around the new information. You’re not as shocked as you probably should be, as the loyalty chip makes a lot of sense.

Why Levi was so intent on killing the old man. Why he stayed with you even when you told him to get out. Why he couldn’t tell you about this. And you wouldn’t put it beneath Varsikovians. They can mutilate and horribly alter their soldiers for an edge in the war, it’s not too far a stretch to practically make them slaves in addition.

“I do. It requires surgery, though.”

“Is the Czar the Beneficiary of all guards?”

“It’s usually whoever they’re guarding. In your case, however, it was deemed safer to have it be the Czar instead since you’re… Well…”

“An outsider,” you easily fill in with a knowing smile. “It is alright. I’m aware.”

You’re just glad it’s the Czar since he seems to be sympathetic towards you. Even if he’s keeping you locked in here, and even if he ordered Levi to not tell you about the loyalty chip.

“Is there a way to get rid of the chip?”

“No. It’s embedded into his vital organs to make it effectively unremovable,” she says.

“Why is it there in the first place?”

“Augmentation gives the soldiers superhuman strength. The first augmentations went horribly wrong, and as a result, the soldiers became aggressive, unpredictable and corrupted by the metals they were mended into. It was originally a safety precaution, and later the protocol wasn’t removed because they still fear the corruption of augmentations.”

“Plus, it is awfully convenient to have inhumanely strong soldiers unable to resist your commands,” you can’t help but add. Hange smiles.

“Plus, it's awfully convenient to have inhumanely strong soldiers unable to resist your commands,” she easily concedes.

“So, anyone with a chip cannot defy the orders of the Beneficiary,” you sum up with a thoughtful sigh. “Do the chips ever stop working? Wear out?” you attempt. You don’t like the thought of Levi forever being chained to the will of someone else like this. In fact, the more you think about it, the more your chest tightens with dread.

“Well, there is this one urban legend about a soldier who fifty years ago caused her chip to malfunction when ordered to execute her own son for treason-”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Immediately, a violent shudder runs through you as you hear the silky voice from behind you. You turn to see Levi, leaning against the door like he’s been there for ages, the book you requested lazily dangling from his hand. You didn’t hear him come in. He must’ve sneaked because he knew you were up to something.

You can tell instantly; you’re in deep trouble.

He gives Hange a blood-chilling glare and moves away from the door.

“Out,” he orders. Hange looks back and forth between you and finally gets on her feet with a shrug. She’s not intimidated by Levi, but she’s not immune to his ire, either.

“Don’t go too rough on her, Levi. She wanted to know because she wanted to trust you,” she attempts to vouch for you but walks to the door nonetheless. Giving the book in Levi’s hand a glance, she gives you a sympathetic grin.

“I’ll teach you about alchemy next time. It’s a promise,” she winks and then, she’s out. Levi closes the door.

You tense where you’re standing as he walks past you and places the book on the desk. Then, he turns to look at you.

He looks calm, but you can tell he’s angry.

“Explain.”

“You could not tell me, but I felt like it was important to know. So, I asked her.”

“You didn’t consult me first,” he tells you. You swallow thickly.

“You would have declined,” you say with a faint voice. You’re suddenly hyperaware that he’s a trained and enhanced soldier. He could kill you in a heartbeat. He could maul you and you would be powerless to stop it.

You look at him, your pulse speeding up. You can’t tell if it’s fear or your attraction rearing its head again.

“I could not rely on you fully if I did not know what you were keeping from me. I now know about the loyalty chip.”

Levi says nothing. He just stares at you, angry, for the longest time. Daring you to keep looking him in the eye with what you just did.

You break the eye contact and eventually, you can’t take the oppressive atmosphere any longer.

“I need to get ready for bed. Excuse me,” you murmur and turn for the bathroom, but as you attempt to flee the situation, you feel a strong hand snatching your wrist.

With a swift movement, he reels you in.

“You’re not getting away with this like this, little miss,” he tells you with narrowed eyes. “You went behind my back, inquiring about my personal business. You had no right to do that.”

“I needed to know what you were forced to keep from me! I should not have gone behind your back, but it was vital that I know!” you argue, now a little annoyed. You tug at your wrist, but he keeps a tight grip on it, glaring at you.

“Release me,” you demand.

“No.”

“I am your princess, you have no right to handle me like this!” you argue fiercely. A part of you is afraid, but there’s another, stronger part that refuses to back down. You still think you needed to know, even if your methods were unorthodox.

“I don’t, yet I’m doing it anyway because you’re being a little shit,” Levi shoots back. His hold tightens, and you wince.

“You are hurting me,” you tell him and tug at your wrist again. He looks down, and when he sees your skin turn a little red under his fingertips, he immediately lets you go.

Before you can flee, he wraps a demanding arm around your waist instead and pulls you in. He’s not about to let you leave.

“Does this hurt?” he asks as he cages you against his chest. While still obviously riled up, there’s an undercurrent of thoughtfulness in the way he looks at you, suddenly so close you can feel his breath against your cheek.

Your pulse is thundering in your ear, though it’s no longer fear. It’s longing.

“No,” you find yourself breathing as you place a hand on his chest to steady yourself. A silence falls between you as if neither of you knows how to continue this conflict now that the tension has been broken.

“Levi, I had to know,” you start after a long, charged silence. “I did not go behind your back because I did not trust you, I…”

“Then why did you go behind my back?” he asks. Your eyes lock, and you’re enchanted by the sight. His eyes, betrayed and conflicted, are as stunning as they are heart-wrenching.

You pause to think about it. Why did you choose to seize the opportunity to learn without his knowledge? You didn’t as much as suggest this to him.

Hell, Levi tried to tell you when you first asked him, but he was physically unable to. Why did you assume he would go against your best interests when he’s given you no reason to distrust him? The longer you think about this, the more you realise that you made a mistake.

Your eyes turn apologetic, and you place a hand on his jaw. You suddenly understand why he’s so upset. It’s because he would have helped you had you just asked.

“I guess I did not trust you, after all,” you admit. “I thought you would not want me to know under any circumstances. I thought you would protest, and I would forever have to stay in the dark and only learn the truth when it blows up in my face. I’m sorry, Levi.”

He sighs, his eyes soften, and he grasps your hand in his.

“I would have told you myself if I could. My order was to not tell you, not to keep you from finding out,” he explains.

So, the orders have to be literal. You look into Levi’s conflicted eyes. You’re aware of how close you are. He is as well, but instead of letting you go, you feel his arm tighten around your waist.

“Little miss,” he starts. “I’m trying to help you and keep you alive. If we want to work as a unit, we need to be able to trust each other.”

“Do you trust me?” you ask carefully.

“I want to,” he replies. “And for the most part, I do.”

“Likewise,” you answer, your tone just a touch breathy. You stare into his eyes, hopelessly attracted, and before you know it, the closeness, the anticipation between you becomes too much and your knees buckle.

Easily, Levi catches you and holds you up against his chest, steadying you.

“Careful, little miss, or you’ll fall,” he tells you, voice low and laced with thinly veiled fondness. His eyes flicker to your lips, for just a moment, and your heart jolts.

“I have already fallen,” you breathe before you can stop yourself. Levi’s eyes widen, you feel a shudder go down his spine as you see the heart-crushing pining in his eyes. He wants you, he wants you so bad he can no longer keep himself in check.

It’s all a flurry. Both of you lean in, you feel his frantic breath against your lips for a fleeting moment, and then you feel his mouth on yours. Hungry and demanding, he kisses you so hard you tilt back, your hand clutching the cape at his chest while the other lovingly holds his jaw.

A groan tears from his throat, a noise unlike you’ve ever heard before from a living thing. A sound of pure want as he tilts his head and moves his mouth against yours like only your lips can quench his lifelong need. His hand slips into your hair, holding the back of your head as he claims your mouth, so hard you can’t even draw a breath in between his frantic movements.

You moan softly and return with equal force. You press against him with your full weight, your lips nip and lap on his, relish the taste of spring water and danger as you surrender to him.

You have never kissed anyone before. It makes you dizzy, makes you feel like you’re floating in the air, feather-light and above all worries.

There’s nothing in this world but you and Levi, and the spark that’s now been ignited between you.

It takes Levi no effort to lift you up, it wouldn’t even without his superhuman strength. He carries you the few steps to your bed, pushes you down and follows suit.

You feel his questing hands all over your body, his weight pressing you down into the mattress. His lips latch onto your neck with hunger and the clear desire to take you. Own you. To leave his mark there, for everyone to see that you’re _his_.

His hands roam. Sliding down the curve of your waist to your hips, up your hem along your thigh, grasping your neck, your hair, stroking your cheek.

He touches you in all the ways he’s secretly been longing to, during the idle hours of the night when you’re asleep and unaware of his turmoil.

All you can do is throw your head back and let him have you. To hell with Eren, to hell with everyone else. You want Levi. You want his hands on your bare body, you want his heated lips on your naked skin.

Perhaps, you would have gone through with it had it not been for the knock on the door, pulling you out of your sensuous haven and back to Earth.

Both of you pause. Your eyes open and for a moment, you just look at each other. You see his riled up, stormy eyes. Feel the way his heated breaths mingle with yours.

Levi obviously realises what he was well on his way to doing and how utterly forbidden and inappropriate it is. He gets off you, albeit slowly, and puts distance between you.

You sit up, confused and more than a little aroused. Another knock on the door and you realise you can’t just stay here.

Quickly, you arrange your hair back in place and call to the door.

“Come in.”

The door is opened, and a messenger walks in with a sealed envelope. Levi walks back to his usual post as the messenger hands you the letter.

“A message from the Czar, your grace,” he tells you simply. If he senses something off, he doesn’t say it as he excuses himself immediately.

A heavy silence falls between you. You only now realise the true extent of your actions. Not only did you touch and kiss another man, but you were also going to lay with him.

What if you had? Not only that, what if you had and it resulted in something disastrous like a child?

You look up at Levi, eyes wide and confused. Despite knowing better, you still feel the tug. The ache. You want him.

“Please, say something,” you tell him quietly. He looks down, clearly contemplative, and leans against the door in a familiar fashion.

“Things got out of control,” he finally starts. “I shouldn’t have done that. If anyone ever finds out, my life is forfeit.”

“Yes,” you whisper thinly. Yet, you’re hesitant to disregard all this, even though you know you should. You should remain loyal to Eren and keep your eyes on what you’re trying to do; to retain the peace between Novaryn and Varsiko.

You open the letter, mostly to just distract yourself, and skim over the contents.

“I’m relieved of all charges and no longer under room arrest,” you tell him. “They concluded that the guard was acting alone and that I killed him in justified self-defence. My hawk and horse are back at my disposal and the staff no longer holds the right to refuse to serve me.”

Levi nods, but you can see him closing off by the second. The sight scares you.

“Levi, listen to me,” you start heavily. “I need you to stay with me despite other guards now being forced to serve me. As much as you can, I need you here. No matter what just happened, you are the only person I can trust to help me with this. I need you not to pull away from me. I need _you_. So, do not abandon me, I’m begging you.”

Levi releases a long breath. He thinks it over.

“This never happened,” he lays his terms. “We forget all about the last ten minutes. I’m your guard, and you’re a royal promised to someone else. That’s all there is to it.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the words die in your throat. When you look at him, you realise he already knows all you want to say. That it’s too late. That you’re already off the deep end. That there is no burying your feelings now.

He wants to pretend. He wants to buy the lie because to admit the truth would be the start of a doomed relationship. If you give yourself to him, he will not be able to hand you over to anyone. Not Eren. Not Novaryn. Not the peace between your countries that you so dearly care about.

You swallow the protest and simply nod.

You can pretend like the sight of him doesn’t make your chest clench. Like the thought of your kiss doesn’t send a shiver down your spine. Like you don’t feel like you’ll slowly suffocate to death the rest of your days if you can never feel his touch again.

You give him a convincing smile.

You’re a good liar, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite spending most of yesterday and today trying to decide how I feel about the new Star Wars movie after seeing it during its European premiere, I still managed to squeeze out an update. And what an update! We finally got somewhere with Levi, only to take three steps back immediately after, but hey, at least it's something! Who wants to throttle the messenger boi for interrupting their fun times? All in favour of yeeting him off the highest tower in the castle say "aye".
> 
> Also, new exposition/secrets revealed. Levi has a loyalty chip. Everyone kind of guessed that one already so I don't feel like it's that big of a deal, but now you know how they work ^^ We also had Maid Springer go full mom mode which was sweet.
> 
> Anyway, feel free to cuss me out for cutting it short with the kiss. As always, comments are supremely appreciated and I'm so happy people are invested in the story. If you have a spare moment, a comment would mean the world ^^
> 
> Until next time~


	10. The Factory of Cruelty

_”Levi, please, I’m begging you, come to your senses! Your grace, please let him go. Please have mercy on him. I do not care if I die, but spare him from having to live with the burden of having to have killed me.”_

_“I am your Czar. What reason should I have to listen to anything you say?”_

_“I’m begging you, your grace. Spare him. Please.”_

_“Levi, use the iron on her.”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

_You look into Levi’s eyes as he draws closer to you. Your body is broken and on the verge of giving out. You see the emptiness in his eyes. The void of emotion and the lightness of his hand that comes with it._

_“Levi,” you beg with a broken, hoarse voice that no longer carries. You have screamed too much. “Do not do this. For your own sake. You love me, just as I love you. We belong together. Our bodies and blood have been bound. This will destroy you.”_

_“Quiet.”_

_The scorching hot iron makes contact with the back of your hand. Your scream._

-

Another nightmare, you idly think to yourself as you sit up. You cannot remember much, only a heart-clenching pain of losing something important. You just can’t recall what.

Only when something wet falls on the back of your hand do you realise you’re crying. Confused, you bring your fingertips to your cheek and feel the wetness there.

Around you, the castle is getting ready for the day. Maid Springer hasn’t come to you yet, so you know it’s not breakfast-time yet.

“Levi,” you call to your guard.

“What?”

“Did I scream in my sleep?”

“No. You just writhed and sobbed,” Levi answers from the door. You turn to give him a small glance.

It’s been a few days since _the incident_. Ever since then, Levi has kept a firm distance to you. He still humours you with his presence and conversations, but he makes sure to never touch you unless he absolutely has to.

He must be like you, he doesn’t trust himself around you.

You still feel his touch on your skin if you close your eyes and concentrate. You feel the palm of his hand slide up your cinched waist. You feel the thrill of his fingertips, trailing a path up your smooth thigh, under the hem of your skirts. You feel his breath against your lips, your throat, on its way down to the cleavage of your chest.

It makes you shudder, and there is a large part of you that wishes you never got interrupted. That you would now sit here knowing what it feels like to be held by Levi Ackerman.

Maybe it’s because Levi longer comforts you in your sleep that you have suddenly started waking up to nightmares again.

Levi doesn’t meet your eyes. He keeps them firmly ahead as you wipe your tears off and pull your fluffy covers aside.

Ever since you were released from the room arrest, you’ve dined with the rest of the royal family. You have successfully acted as if nothing’s wrong and gossiped about otiose matters with Historia. In private with her, you’ve put on an admirably skilful act of terror and paranoia.

She has retained her position of insisting you tell your brother, and each time she suggests it you pretend to be just a little more convinced you should.

“I think you should go meet your fiancé in the near future,” Levi starts slowly as you walk to the balcony to open the curtains and let in some fresh air.

You pause mid-movement, hand grasping the heavy red satin, and turn to give Levi an incredulous stare.

Is he now trying to pair you up with Eren? Despite all you saw him do with Historia and all you’ve gone through with Levi?

“Why?” you ask and cross your arms. “He wants nothing to do with me. Why would I pursue him?”

“I don’t care what you discuss with him. Discuss the weather for all I care. But it would open the opportunity for me to converse with Mikasa Ackerman outside.”

“You want to ask why she spared us?”

“Yes. And if she could be convinced to work for us, that would be an invaluable asset.”

You mull it over in your head. It would be a good move. If you could get Mikasa on your side, it would make things a lot easier. You could maybe find out what Eren and Historia’s end game is.

“Do you promise to be careful?” you ask slowly. Levi gives you an unimpressed frown.

“Little miss, I’m a military captain. I’ve extracted information from harder targets than her.”

“Do not maul her,” you feel the need to add. He scoffs.

“Only if it’s necessary-”

“Do. Not. Maul her,” you repeat, emphasising each word.

He gives you a long look before finally smiling a bit.

“I know, little miss, I was just messing with you.”

“You are talented at doing that,” you mutter to yourself, the memory of him pinning you down on the bed and mouthing at your pulse point invading your thoughts.

-

As you walk into the dining hall, you can immediately tell you’ve interrupted something. Zeke and Czar Yeager are standing in the middle of the hall and whatever they were arguing about, they fall quiet the moment you walk in.

Eren, Historia and the Czarina are already sitting at the table, looking very uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry. Did I arrive at a bad time?” you ask. The Czar gives you a forced smile.

“Not at all, my dear. Zeke and I were just discussing something.”

“Are you free this afternoon, your grace?” Zeke asks and disregards the enraged glare he gets from his father in return.

Immediately, you’re wary even though you skilfully keep it off your face.

“How come, your grace?”

“I would like to take you out,” he announces.

“As I said, it’s most inappropriate for a _czarevich_ to take out his brother’s fiancée-”

“I don’t mind,” comes Eren’s dull response from the table. Historia bites her lip and gives you a worried glance.

“Where were you hoping to take me, your grace?”

“To see the Varsikovian-Novarynians in the capital,” Zeke enlightens you. Taken aback, you blink. The what?

“Varsikovian-Novarynians?” you utter. “I did not even know such a thing exists.”

“Oh, they exist alright. I was hoping to introduce you to them.”

The way Zeke’s eyes flash behind his glasses promises nothing good, but you’re intrigued now. You glance at Levi, who suddenly looks extremely tense.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” The Czarina weighs in with a troubled look.

“Oh but surely you meant it, father, when you told us to trust our dearest guest?” Zeke hums with a lazy drawl. “Or was it just for show? Has she given you no reason to trust her?”

Why is Zeke suddenly vouching for you? It’s certainly suspicious. Yet you’re not going to lie; you’re interested, even if this could be a trap.

“I would like to go,” you tell Czar Yeager earnestly. “I’m interested to see these people for myself.”

Czar Yeager releases a long sigh, clearly at a loss.

“I don’t want to hide things from you, Cora. But there are certain affairs I’d prefer to keep from Novaryn.”

“I will not blabber to Novaryn,” you easily promise. “I have not even told them that I almost died, I can keep a secret.”

“I know,” Czar Yeager sighs. “I’ve read all the mail you sent while you were in room arrest and you didn’t say a word about anything unfavourable. If anything, you’ve painted us in a good light. I’m grateful for that.”

You pretend to be mildly shocked about the fact that the Czar was monitoring your mail. You curtsey and feign a pained smile.

“In that case, I apologise for not appearing trustworthy enough for you to not do that,” you say. Immediately, the Czar hurries to grasp your shoulder.

“Goodness, my child, no!” he says, horrified. “You’ve done nothing to violate my trust. I was prejudiced and paranoid like the old fool I am. That’s all there is to it. Forgive me, Cora.”

You offer him your trained smile and gently grasp his hand on your shoulder.

“There is nothing to forgive, your grace. You did what you must for your country, just as I kept the assault a secret for the safety of mine. These negotiations mean the world to me.”

You see Eren roll his eyes at the table, clearly having caught onto how you’re slowly but surely twisting his father around your little finger.

The Czar looks positively delighted with your mature response. He squeezes your hand between his.

“My child. I’m happy you got sent here, and that Eren has the opportunity to marry such a mature, gentle woman as yourself.”

“You are flattering me too much, your grace,” you argue with a small smile. You curtsey and move to sit down. As you do, you turn your attention to Eren.

“Before I leave with the _czarevich_, I was hoping to visit you in your chambers to exchange a few words.”

Obviously suspicious, Eren cocks his chin up and looks at you for a long time. Then, he finally sighs and turns his attention to his plate. He must have realised he can’t really decline without his father intervening.

“Do whatever you wish,” he grunts and grabs the tray of fried potatoes. Happy, you reach for the greens the maids just brought in.

The meal goes by uneventfully. You properly gush with Carla Yeager about the scandal of the Czarina of _Chekovna_, who, upon losing her husband, opted to marry his cousin soon afterwards. A rough and unyielding land up Northeast, it’s rare to hear news from there and the few pieces of information are always old wives’ gossip like this.

Zeke finishes his meal before you, and as he does, he pauses behind you as he passes you by.

“Be ready in four rounds’ time,” he leans in to murmur, his breath uncomfortable against the nape of your neck. Despite yourself, you shudder. You feel Levi’s dark eyes on you.

You nod and follow his retreating back with your eyes as he marches out of the door and closes it after himself.

The Czar sighs deeply and gives you a small wince.

“You don’t have to go with him if it makes you uncomfortable,” he earnestly says, but you shake your head with a small smile.

“It is rather alright. ”

You finish your breakfast and excuse yourself with a curtsey. You wait until there’s a safe distance between yourself and the dining hall before speaking up.

“Anything?” you ask Levi, who’s walking quietly behind you. You asked Levi to keep an eye on Historia to see if you setting up a private meeting with Eren would make her tick.

“No. She’s every bit as good at acting as we surmised,” Levi tells you with a quiet grunt. You can sense it in the way he speaks, something is bothering him, and you feel like you have a good idea of what that something is.

As he closes the door behind you, leaving you alone in your quarters, he immediately crosses his arms.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to go with the czarevich today,” he tensely says. You place your hands on your hips and give him a questioning look.

“And why is that?”

“It might… Disturb you,” he avoids the truth vaguely. With an unimpressed sigh, you try to decipher his uncomfortable expression.

“Why would it disturb me?”

“I can’t say,” Levi admits.

“Another order from the Czar?”

“Yes.”

“I will find out either way,” you point out. Levi shakes his head.

“That doesn’t matter. I still can’t tell you.”

“But you can watch me find out on my own?” you ask as you walk to your desk and sit down. You carelessly cross one leg over the other and lean your head into your hand.

“Can the Czar take back orders?” you inquire. For now, it doesn’t pose an issue since the Czar is on your side, but should he ever turn against you, you’ll be without any kind of protection. You both know that.

“Yes, but he rarely does,” Levi replies.

“I guess there’s no reason for him to bother just for your comfort,” you mutter. You place an idle hand on your throat and force the tug in your chest, pulling you towards Levi, to subside.

The faint marks he left on your throat have already faded, and all you have left of his touch is a longing memory that makes your chest ache.

You watch the way his eyes flicker to your throat with a hue of recognition, and suddenly you want to address it.

“Does it ever cross your mind?” you quietly ask, your hand resting on your throat. Your eyes seek his.

Levi allows you a short moment of his honest eyes. You can see the lonely, pining pain. The yearning to do it all again, over and over until his betrayal of the kingdom no longer stings.

“I-” Levi cuts himself off when he faintly hears a pair of soldiers ride past below your window, as if afraid their hearing is on par with his.

He averts his eyes with a long sigh.

“The czarevich should have eaten by now,” he finally says. You get on your feet. Without a word, you walk to the door. You pass him by and when you see the pain he’s desperately trying to hide from you, you can’t help it. Your instincts take over, and you extend a hand towards his jaw to cup it.

“Don’t.”

The bite of his hiss makes you jolt and pause.

“You’ll make it worse,” he then continues, voice gentler but still strangled and pained. You watch him for a moment, open and longing, and then nod. You pull the mask back on and when you step out of your quarters, you are no longer his _little miss_ but Cora Reader, the 13th Princess of Novaryn.

“If she seems like a liability, don’t press her. More than risking her telling Eren everything, I prefer having her keep quiet but otherwise uncooperative,” you tell Levi.

“I know.”

As you make it to Eren’s room, Mikasa is standing outside like usual, back straight and face as stoic as always. She gives the two of you a brief look and then simply knocks on the door.

“Admit her in,” you hear Eren’s sullen voice from inside. Mikasa opens the door for you and you nod to her as you enter.

Eren’s room is much like you recall it. Scattered and unorganised, with wonky piles of war books here and there. The curtains, carpets and sheets are not red and grey but deep brown. On the wall, you see a painting depicting a knight on horseback, charging forward towards a crowd of hooded figures carrying torches.

You pause to look at the painting, ignoring Eren for now where he’s sitting on the small couch by the wall, sharp eyes following your every movement.

“Legend of the Moravlak War,” he grunts at you after a second of silence. “According to the myth, a single Varsikovian commander successfully defended himself against a horde of angry Novarynian heretics who used strange magic. That was the first time our kind came in contact with Alchemy.”

“I never heard Alchemy came from Novaryn until now,” you admit. “After it was outlawed, it seemed like our kings were eager to censor it out of stories.”

“I doubt Alchemy was ever widespread in Novaryn. It seems like only fringe groups of heretics practised it.”

You turn to look at Eren, who’s leaning against the corner of the couch. He doesn’t look friendly, but he’s still more well-meaning than usual.

“It is interesting. To think that the very thing that made my country attack yours originated from Novaryn,” you chuckle joylessly. It’s such morbid irony. Without Novaryn, none of this would have happened.

An awkward albeit non-hostile silence falls between you. Finally, Eren sighs and scratches his neck.

“What did you want to talk about?”

You bite your lip and wrap your arms around yourself. You didn’t come here just to offer Levi a chance to talk to Mikasa. You do have things you wish to tell your fiancé.

“Your gr- I mean, Eren,” you start with an uncomfortable cough. You pause to wonder how to say things, but eventually, you decide to be honest with him.

“What happened to me has scarred me,” you say. “And I know you have told me that I’m not to expect any kind of affection or consideration from you, but I-”

Eren’s face turns darker and for a fleeting moment, you see clear guilt on his features. He’s not like Historia. He’s not a diplomat who can settle on a mask and keep his feelings in check.

“I do not care if you have no interest in me as a woman,” you tell him. “I do not care whom you fancy, whom you lay with, whom you share your loneliest moments with. I do not intend to cling to you. I just… Wish you would at least give me-”

“Give you what?” he interrupts you, his eyes looking up at you defiantly. He seems defensive. You watch his expressive, conflicted eyes. You know he’s younger than you, inexperienced and sheltered. And he’s currently trying to keep the woman of his affections happy by shutting you out.

You can’t make yourself hate him too much. That doesn’t mean you’re going to make it easy on him.

“Basic human decency.” You give him a tired, dejected shrug. “That is all I’m asking for. To not feel like I’m invisible and meaningless. I was confined in my room for weeks and you did not even send me a card to wish me well after I have just been brutally attacked. After I have been cooperating with your kind, after I protected your country from mine by not seeking comfort from my family and instead suffering on my own-”

“No one asked you to do that,” Eren points out and cocks his chin up just a little.

“Your father did. He knows, as well as I do, that if word gets out to my brother, he will call off the wedding and the war is all but reignited.”

“That’s on you,” Eren argues, and you feel your temper flare dangerously. You want to yell at him, but you know it would just make Mikasa rush to the room.

Thus, you keep your voice down, but it’s considerably colder when you reply to him.

“That is, indeed, on me. It is not a position I asked for nor enjoy, but I will protect my country until I either die or my will is completely cracked. If you wish for me to leave this kingdom, then, by all means, do not visit me and hope that I will eventually lose my mind because of loneliness and blue feelings, but if this marriage falls through, it is the blood of your kind that will be spilt as a result.”

You walk to the door and pause just before opening it.

“Your country’s future or your personal agenda. Which one is more important to you? Eventually, you will need to decide, Eren. Make sure you do not regret anything when this is all over.”

With that, you walk out, your feelings in check and dignity intact. You can feel Eren’s eyes on you as you march down the corridor, Levi falling in step behind you.

Staying quiet until you’re in the safety of your room again, you slump down on the bed and kick your shoes off the moment you’re inside, clearly frustrated.

“I take that it didn’t go well,” Levi makes an educated guess as he leans against the doorframe and watches your dissatisfied figure on top of the covers.

“He does not care. What else is new,” you mutter with dry sarcasm. “Please tell me you got something out of the guard.”

“I asked her why she covered for us. The only thing she said was _‘I didn’t do it for your princess’_ and when I asked clarifying questions, she remained silent and opted not to answer them.”

“That does not help all that much,” you sigh. “I never thought she did it out of her never-ending fondness for me, a princess she has never as much as talked to.”

“Whatever the reason, she wants to keep quiet about it. For now, our best bet is to stay out of her hair and hope the czarevich doesn’t think to ask her about that night.”

“Can you lie to your Beneficiary?” You prop your head up to look at Levi.

“Not if he specifically prefaces his questions by ordering you to answer honestly.”

“But otherwise?”

“Otherwise you can lie,” Levi confirms.

“I’m impressed you can tell me details like this.”

“He said I’m not allowed to tell you the chip exists. He never said anything about replying questions once you’ve already found out.”

“So, one must be ridiculously detailed to not have things slip through the cracks,” you summarise and sit up. With a sigh, you glance at the clock.

“I should get ready for going out. Call for Maid Springer, please.”

“You’re still sure you want to go with the czarevich?” Levi tries even though he knows it’s futile. You stand up, give him a harmless smile and walk to the bathroom.

-

The ride to wherever Zeke is taking you is spent in tense silence. You pretend not to notice how both Reiner and Levi rest their hands on the handles of their rifles and stare each other down.

Looking out of the window, you watch the plain-dressed peasants going about their daily lives. Stores, stalls, carriages pulled by donkeys, the whole city is oblivious to your presence.

Half of you was expecting the Novarynian-Varsikovians to live in their own separate neighbourhoods that are isolated from the rest, but to your surprise, the carriage stops near the centre of the city, in front of a large industrial building.

It doesn’t look inviting. It’s made from dull, grey bricks with bar-covered windows, heavy wooden doors and a tall fence around the premises. There are at least a dozen chimneys, smoking so heavily you can smell the pollution all the way inside the carriage.

There’s no grass or vegetation in the yard, you doubt anything would grow in the midst of all this smoke. Instead, it’s covered in gravel with a brick-covered pathway leading to the guarded front doors.

Soldiers are patrolling around the premises, heavily armed.

Suddenly, you’re scared to go inside and find out what’s going on.

“Is there where all of them are?” you ask carefully. Zeke looks exhilarated and you can see his eyes twinkle with glee as he sees your hesitation.

“No. Some are in other factories.“

You recall what the old man from the store told you all those weeks ago, how you’re the only Novarynian who would be admitted into the country unchained and free. You wish you would have connected the dots earlier.

Zeke and Reiner step out of the carriage first and lead the way inside. As you move to follow them, you feel a hand on your shoulder.

“You don’t need to do this. We can still go back,” Levi reminds you, eyes meaningful on yours. He looks worried.

You shake your head and climb out to the yard.

“I can handle this, Levi. Do not worry.”

“You know I can’t not do that,” he points out dryly but lets it go.

You follow Zeke to the front entrance, and a grumpy-looking soldier admits you in with a small bow. Though, his eyes pause on you as he puts the pieces together and realises who you are.

The inside of the factory is as bleak-looking as the outside. The first thing you see is a large, barren hall with a row of soldiers keeping watch by the walls. The floor is cold stone, the walls are naked, and the ceiling is tall with rows of gas lamps illuminating the space.

Your footsteps echo in the large room as Zeke guides you to one of the heavy steel doors lined up by the walls.

“This is one of the gun factories,” Zeke explains lightly as if he’s your tour guide for seeing sights. You can hear the thumping, whirring and clanks of heavy machinery.

“The machines do most of the work. All the employees do is keep the machines running.”

“With what?” you ask warily as you walk down a wide corridor. You can smell the pungent metal and smoke. It all unnerves you.

“Coal,” comes the simple reply.

“And which colony do you get the coal from?” you ask with just a bit of snark before you can stop yourself. Zeke gives you a grin over his shoulder.

“Jaldor.”

“Where is that?”

“It’s a small island country by the Northeast shore of Zwanma.”

The same continent Nambala is located in.

“Just how many colonies do you have?” you mutter as Zeke brings you closer to the sounds of the machinery.

“Not too many. Enough to keep up the war if need to,” Zeke answers with a conversational tone. At the end of the hallway, he pauses and gestures for the heavily guarded soldier to let you in.

As the door opens to a huge hall, it takes your eyes a moment to see through the steam and smoke. You cough a little, the air being anything but clean, and when you make out what’s inside, your eyes fly wide open.

The hall is filled with steel firepits with roaring flames inside, fuelling the cogs of the huge machinery. Next to the rows of ovens are metal rails, used to haul around carts full of coal.

It’s not the impressive machinery that has got you so distraught, but the people working by them. Dirty and anaemic, you see men and women shovelling in coal, faces tired and expressionless. They look so malnourished and skinny it’s a wonder they can move the tools they work with.

Instinctively, you let out a whimper that’s instantly drowned in the deafening sound of the machinery. Without you realising it, your hand leaps to grab Levi’s for comfort. You feel him stiffen for a second. His hand subtly squeezes yours once and then disentangles from your hold before someone else notices.

“Let me introduce you to the Varsikovian-Novarynians,” Zeke ceremoniously shouts over the noise. Your chest clenches, and suddenly it’s not only the smoke that’s making it hard to breathe.

These must be prisoners of war and their descendants. People caught from the battle or raided cities, hauled here for free labour.

You turn to look at Levi, shocked and deep sense of betrayal in your eyes. No one told you. And now, you only know because Zeke relishes in seeing you suffer.

Zeke walks you through the narrow path across the large hall. Levi’s tense and on full alert, but luckily most of the workers are so focused on not toppling over by exhaustion that they don’t notice, let alone recognise you.

Your mouth dries, your windpipe closes with blinding guilt. You want to close your eyes, but you know you don’t deserve to. You’re a royal, and under that disguise, you’re allowed leeway in Varsiko these people could never even dream of. You have to own the privilege you’re protected by.

You almost make it out of the hall before someone stops you. You feel a faint tug at your hems, and when you turn, you see a boy. Covered in soot and sweat, he looks young. You doubt he’s older than fourteen.

You see his mouth open as he speaks to you, but you can’t hear what he’s saying over the loud noises. He tries to shout, but the years in this smoky room have taken his voice.

He reaches a hand toward you, just to be harshly stopped by Levi batting it away.

“It’s okay, Levi!” you shout over the noises. “Let him approach me.”

You move closer, Reiner and Zeke watching on as you allow him to lean in.

“Are you the princess they speak of? The one from… From home?” he talks into your ear. His voice is raspy and weak, and you need to concentrate a lot to make out what he’s saying.

You nod, and a relieved smile raises to his cheeks.

“They say the war will end and we will all be freed when you marry the prince of this place. Is that true?”

Another clench in your chest.

“I will do my best,” you promise him earnestly.

“I was captured from East Novaryn during a raid a year ago and brought here. My name is Solomon Nae. If you… If you ever see my mother in East Novaryn, Esther Nae, can you tell her I’m alive?”

It feels like someone is sitting on your chest. You take a shuddering breath and place a hand on his shoulder.

“I will, Solomon. If I ever see her, I will tell her,” you reply.

“They say you are a good princess. That you will help us. I will tell the rest. We will be waiting for you,” he says with a hopeful smile, and leaves before the soldiers can give him a beating for leaving his post.

You look at his distancing back and bite the inside of your cheek, troubled and disturbed. Without a word, you follow Zeke out of the hall to another narrow corridor.

“These factories have been in operation since the early stages of the war,” Zeke tells you with an awfully light voice. “Some residents were born here, some were brought from Novaryn.”

“And what do the children who are too young for work do here?”

Zeke stops and gives you an unreadable look.

“They stay with their mothers while she works for the first four years of their lives. Then…”

“Then, they go to nurseries? School?” you suggest desperately even though Zeke’s face tells you the truth.

“When they turn four, they start working. Sometimes, the machinery gets stuck. Something in the airways, an air shaft needs repair and so on. We need small, nimble people.”

“You send them in tight, dark spaces to repair the machinery you use to prepare weapons for killing their relatives and countrymen,” you state rather than ask, voice thin and stressed. “How many die before adulthood?”

“Roughly half,” Zeke announces. “But you might find solace in the fact that not many workers have the time and energy to make babies. Not many are born here.”

It’s a relief, but only a small one. As the shock subsides a little, it’s replaced with scorching anger.

“How can the Czar-?“

“My dearest father has nothing to do with this. Did you already forget the part where the_ de facto_ leader of this country is Darius Zackly?”

Darius Zackly, the admiral of the Varsikovian Army and the leader of all four Wings of it. Of course, his family lineage is behind this inhumanity. You want to argue, but you know it won’t do any good right now.

You’re led through a cramped dining hall, consisting of splintered wooden tables and long benches, an off-putting smell coming from what you assume to be the kitchen.

Zeke briefly shows you their sleeping quarters. Rusty bunk beds rowed close together, small puddles on the floors (and some unfortunate people’s beds) from leaky pipes. The pillows are obviously filled with straw and the blankets are thin and worn out.

When Zeke leads you back towards the hallway, you sigh.

“Why are you showing me all this?” You drop all pretences and allow yourself to sound just as dejected and frustrated as you feel. You can’t do anything for them now, all you can do is hold onto your conviction to not make the peace negotiations fall through.

Once the war is fully over, you can negotiate for returning these people to Novaryn, or at least freeing them from their slavery.

“All in due time, pet,” comes Zeke’s simple answer. He has the decency to take a way around the hall, so you don’t need to see the despair of your people a second time. You walk through what feels like hours of endless, barren corridors, and the silence gives you the perfect opportunity to fall deep into blue thoughts.

Another reminder of how hostile Varsiko is. How little power even the Czar has. How minuscule your influence is. You can feel Levi’s eyes on your back, obviously gauging your mental state.

As you step outside, to the shrilling early autumn breeze, you shudder a bit. You feel immense guilt for walking away from the factory, yet it’s your only option for now.

Zeke opens the door for you and gives you an unnerving smile.

“After you, your grace,” he hums. You narrow your eyes a little bit but climb inside nonetheless.

It all happens so fast. Zeke nods to Reiner, who grapples Levi down to the ground on cue. Zeke jumps in the carriage after you, signals for the driver to start moving and slams the door shut.

Immediately, your eyes widen. You leap to open the door and throw yourself out, but Zeke is ahead of you. He grabs your arms and holds you back forcefully.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you, pet,” he murmurs in your ear. You watch through the window, wide-eyed and helpless, as Levi fights Reiner furiously, his eyes trained on the carriage. He uses every bit of leeway he gets from the blonde man to try and claw after you, but he can’t shrug Reiner off.

The carriage takes you away, and your struggle against Zeke is futile. He’s stronger than he lets on.

“What are you trying to do to me?!” you ask, alarmed and crept out. Zeke chuckles.

“If you promise not to do anything stupid, such as cast yourself off this carriage when it’s going at such speed, I will release your arms. I don’t intend to harm you, pet.”

You think it over for a moment, forcing your heart to calm down and those intrusive thoughts of that traumatising night to subside. Then, you nod shortly.

Zeke lets you go, and instantly you scramble to get as far away from him as possible.

“Forgive me for deceiving you, but it was the only way I could separate you from your guard dog. There’s no reason to fear, we’re _en route _back to the castle. I simply wish to speak to you privately.”

“About what?” you ask. You know better than to trust him.

“The reason I showed you that factory was because I want to offer you my help. I can help you set them free.”

“Free?” you frown. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean, I will help you smuggle them out of the country if you want to,” Zeke enlightens you with a nonchalant shrug.

“There is no need for that. Once I marry Eren, I’m sure a part of the negotiations-”

“Your father has already agreed to drop the issue of enslaved Novarynians in any forthcoming peace agreements. It was one of the key issues Admiral Zackly pushed for when he authorised the negotiations. You can ask him when he arrives if you don’t believe me.”

That makes you pause.

“Arrives?” you frown, and Zeke gives you an infuriatingly condescending look.

“Oh, don’t tell me he didn’t even tell you he’s coming to Varsiko? Our countries are no longer at war, so it’s customary that he’s present, like any other royals from nearby non-hostile nations, when the heir apparent gets married. He’ll be arriving in two or so weeks and spend a few days here advancing the negotiations with your father before the wedding.”

You didn’t expect the news to sting as much as they do. You know your father has little regard for you, but for him to not even announce he’ll be visiting, it really makes you feel insignificant.

“Either way, he won’t be of help releasing those slaves. I, however, can help you,” Zeke says.

“And how exactly would we do that?”

“I have my ways.”

“And why would you want to do that? What do you want in return?” There’s no way Zeke would help you out of the goodness of his heart.

“I’m not fond of slavery, as much as that might be hard to believe,” he replies with a shrug and grins. “But, you’re right. I’m offering you my help because I want you to like me.”

“Why would you want me to like you? What is in it for you?” You cross your arms. Zeke chuckles and moves quite suddenly. Sitting down beside you, he quickly grabs your waist before you can move away.

You struggle in his hold, alarmed, as he leans in and tilts his head.

“You know why,” he hums. “I haven’t exactly been subtle about it.”

Your eyes harden and you wipe off the panic to give him a long, cold glare. Zeke, obviously enthralled, chuckles fondly.

“I love it when you glare at me. It’s exciting. Historia does exactly as I tell her to, it gets boring. But you rebel against me. I love that.”

You feel sorely tempted to tell him that Historia is doing things behind his back. Things like trying to kill you. But, you know better.

“Why can you not tell me all this in Levi’s presence?” you ask as you try to struggle. Zeke’s hold over you tightens and he snorts.

“Please. He would advise you against this and not allow you to cooperate with me.”

“How do you know that? I’m sure he does not condone slavery-”

“He’s a part of the military, and his fundamental loyalties are not with you,” Zeke assesses mercilessly.

“Are you saying the loyalty chip prevents him?”

That gives Zeke a pause. Then, he laughs.

“So, you found a way to discover your hound’s little secret. I’m impressed.”

He affectionately bops the tip of your nose with his finger. Immediately, you bat his hand away. Unaffected, Zeke continues speaking.

“Even if the loyalty chip doesn’t prevent it, he’s not going to want you anywhere near me. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how possessive your guard dog is. He’s just aching to mount you.”

At that, your eyes flicker down. Zeke immediately catches onto it.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” he says. “It wouldn’t be the first time a princess gets involved with her guard, but those tales never end well.”

“And getting involved with her fiancé’s brother is the better option?” you ask and place your hands on his chest, trying to push him off.

“Who knows,” Zeke chuckles. He places his hand on your neck, his arm tightening around your waist, and rubs you just under your ear. You pull your head away with an unhappy groan.

“What are you doing?”

“Just leaving a bit of my scent on your neck. I like seeing your guard dog lose his mind when there’s someone else’s scent on his precious princess. It’s amusing.”

“Let go,” you growl and stomp on his foot in an effort to get free. This unbelievable bastard.

Zeke lets you go, but only when you’re getting dangerously close to the castle. He reaches for his pocket and throws you a small key just as you arrive on the castle grounds.

“If you ever manage to shrug off your guard dog and want to hear my plan, feel free to visit me in my quarters.”

“This is the key to your quarters?”

“Yes.”

“And you are just giving it to me?”

“Yes.”

You narrow your eyes. Under no circumstances do you believe anything Zeke is saying. Why would he suddenly extend such generous help your way, just to make you like him? It makes no sense.

“There will be no deal. Take your key and leave,” you tell him as the carriage pulls to a halt. You hold out the key to him, but he doesn’t take it.

“You can keep it,” Zeke hums. “In case you ever feel like you want to talk to me privately. It’s not good if anyone sees you waiting around my room, so I want you to be able to just go in.”

There’s no one here to witness you two, so you dare to drop any resemblance of a polite act.

“You are delusional if you think I will ever visit you in your quarters,” you hiss at him. Chuckling, Zeke shakes his head.

“You were almost killed. Do you honestly think you’re in any position to reject people willing to be your allies?”

“I have all the allies I need. My guard and I-”

“Your guard will turn against you the second my father snaps his fingers,” Zeke reminds you.

“The Czar has no reason to do that.”

Zeke leans in. He places his hand over yours and closes your fingers over the key, securing it in your hand.

“Yet,” he whispers into your ear.

Then, you hear a thud from the door. You turn your head just in time to get a blurry glimpse of Levi as he yanks the door open and practically rips you out of the carriage.

He’s drenched in sweat and furious, his grip is bruising as he throws you behind him and turns to face Zeke.

Calm and seemingly unaffected despite the fact that his guard is not here, Zeke gets out of the carriage and gestures for the driver to leave. Then, he scratches his ear and meets Levi’s enraged eyes.

“Down, boy,” he orders with a grin. “I didn’t do anything to your precious princess, and you know better than attacking me.”

Levi’s eyes flash, and his hand leaps to the handle of his rifle, but you hurry to stop him.

“Levi, stop. It is alright, I’m fine,” you attempt to soothe him. Zeke is obviously entertained, and he licks his lips with ominous glee.

“You sprinted all the way here? I’m impressed. What a devoted guard dog. I hope you didn’t maim poor Reiner too much.”

“Leave it, Levi. He is just trying to get you in trouble by riling you up,” you murmur to Levi. Your pleading eyes meet his, and he contemplates for just a second. He inhales deeply to calm his nerves, and frowns. Then, in a heartbeat, his confusion turns to anger.

Before you can register it, he grabs you with bruising power and practically hauls you over his shoulder. You let out a surprised shriek as he turns without a word and carries you back into the castle. Just before the main entrance slams shut behind you, you hear Zeke call out to you.

“Think about it, pet. I’ll be waiting.”

You see the amused glint of his eyes. You want to address him, tell him he can wait forever and you won’t come, but you’ve got more important issues at hand.

“Levi, people are seeing this,” you try to reason as you dangle over his shoulder, but you’re only acknowledged with a hostile growl.

“Shut up, if you know what’s good for you.”

You frown. Levi ignores all bewildered looks you get from passing maids and soldiers as he carries you back to your room with haste. You subtly hide the key in the folds of your dress, deciding to address that only when Levi’s calmed down.

Levi takes you to your room, kicks the door closed after himself and slams you down on the desk. You whimper a little at the mild pain, still more confused than scared. He leans in, eyes twinkling with danger.

“What did he do?” he insists. Instinctively, you reach your hands to place on his chest to stabilise yourself, but he grabs your wrists and pins them down against the wood. You lean back a little, the closeness affecting you with memories of his lips on yours. You suddenly feel light and dizzy again, in the most wonderful of ways despite the way he’s currently handling you.

“Whatever do you mean?” you breathe. Levi leans closer, takes another deep breath, and groans. His hands tighten around your wrists.

“His disgusting smell is all over you. Where did he touch you?”

His pupils are dilated, his breathing is off, his jaws are gritting together as his jealous thoughts eat him alive. He’s showing you himself at his ugliest as the thought of Zeke’s hands on your skin drives him mad.

He’s already claimed you, Zeke has no business touching what’s his.

A look of understanding spreads on your face, and you feel a fleeting moment of fondness for Levi. It’s just as Zeke said. Levi might be holding back because he’s your guard, but that doesn’t erase his possessiveness.

“My waist and my neck,” you admit. Levi’s hands twitch on your wrists, clearly aching to overwrite Zeke’s smell with his. He trembles just the tiniest bit. Clearly contemplating his options. You feel the pull between you, the obvious temptation to just re-do what you had a few days ago, the frantic touches and heated kisses.

Only, this time he keeps himself in check because he’s been constantly reminding himself what’s at stake.

Making up his mind, he pulls back just to roughly drag you to the bathroom by your wrist. You don’t put up much of a fight, you know it’s not worth it.

And, you hate to admit it, but you find his rough attitude rather arousing.

“Get in the bath,” he orders. He releases your wrist, crosses his arms and wrinkles his nose. “I want his scent off you.”

“Why?” you ask, forcing yourself calm despite the way your heart hammers in your chest because of the closeness and the knowledge he cares this much. He can pretend all he wants, but when he treats you like this, clearly disturbed and angry, you’re not about to let him off without a proper explanation. Even if you know the answer already.

A tense silence falls between you.

“Because smelling him on you is driving me insane and my brain won’t work properly until you smell like yourself again,” Levi finally admits through his teeth.

You sigh.

“He did it because he knew it would bother you. He enjoys seeing you riled up over me. It entices him. Try not to lose your cool in front of him like that.”

You take his hand and place it on your waist. Then, you put the other one on your neck.

“Wipe his scent off then. If it bothers you,” you dare him. He sighs and pulls his hands back even though it’s obvious it’s taking him a lot of resolve to do it.

“You know I can’t do that. I’d rather you just smelt like yourself,” he says. “Please, just wash his odour off.”

You get where he’s coming from. Should anyone rub her perfume all over Levi, you’d be equally pissed off. It just feels odd, after Levi going to such lengths to avoid talking about your intimate moment and demanding you pretend there’s nothing between you.

As much as Levi appears stoic and aloof, his temper is proving to be a hair-trigger once it comes to you.

“Alright. But afterwards, we should talk about what he said while we were alone. There is a lot to discuss.”

Levi nods and excuses himself.

Left alone in the bathroom, you look around at the neatly polished porcelain appliances and let out a long breath.

You take out the key and look at it, puzzled.

What a mess. The factory, Zeke’s offer, you and Levi’s relations. All of it. You start pumping out the water, knowing that in a moment you will have to get out of here and start making sense of things.

One thing remains clear, however; you and Levi, as much as you pretend otherwise, are past the point of no return. Sooner or later, the flame will consume you with disastrous results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year! Happy new decade! Happy new beginning for people who need it!
> 
> I was planning on updating a few days ago, but for whatever reason this chapter turned out to be quite challenging to write and I'm still not sure if I'm 100% happy with it. Either way, this was a long one at 8,000 words. We got a glimpse into the Yeager brothers' relations to Cora. Zeke is still as much of a little bastard as he's always been, though he's somewhat hard to read with dubious motives. Eren is classic Eren. And of course, Cora is once again put in a tough situation as she's made aware of the factories.
> 
> And yes, daddy Reader will make an appearance and we will be meeting him! Hope you're excited for the can of worms that will be that complex father-daughter relationship lol. And who's here for some good old manhandling possessive Levi? *wrist grabbing kink intensifies*
> 
> I'd love some comments since they always motivate me and I'd love to hear your thoughts about this new chapter. Any and all comments are greatly appreciated! And hopefully I won't take quite as long with the next chapter.


	11. Birth of a Diplomat

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Levi…”

“If you think I’m going to let you go to his quarters unsupervised after he just abducted and rubbed his vile scent all over you-”

“You are being overdramatic.”

“-then you are sorely mistaken. This conversation is over.”

You give Levi an exasperated look and cross your arms. You’re still wet from the bath. Your hair is damp and undone, and you’re only dressed in your underwear, an undershirt and a simple, knee-length skirt.

Maid Springer won’t be here until it’s time for dinner.

The sky is slowly turning dark outside. The castle is so close to the city that most nights, the lights from the factories and houses nearby keep you from seeing the stars and moon. You find yourself rather missing the way you could stare at the sky full of stars in Novaryn.

You look at Levi, who’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His typical, relaxed posture. He’s no longer on full alert since the smell is off you, but he still looks visibly unhappy. His earlier outburst is still fresh both in your minds, and the bath only did so much to help the atmosphere.

“I want to know what his plan is,” you say. You’re sitting on your bed, brushing your wet hair. Your barren appearance bothers you a little, and there’s an odd sense of intimacy that comes with Levi seeing you like this. Even though he’s guarded your sleep many times before, you usually dive straight under the blankets, away from his eyes, when you come out of your evening bath.

He seems to be thinking along the same lines because his dark eyes flicker to you and gain a small awkward sheen every now and then.

“I’m not going to let you go in his room alone, and I doubt he’s going to tell you in my presence,” Levi says. You sigh and stand up, placing the brush on the bedside table.

Crossing the room until you’re standing in front of him, you look over his stubborn face.

“Levi, those are my people in there,” you tell him quietly. “I cannot just leave them there, into slavery. I have to help them out of there, and my father is not going to do a thing to help them.”

“There has to be another way to free them.”

“This is a chance to have the future ruler of this country on my side,” you try to persuade him. Levi’s dark eyes flash as you hit an infected nerve, and he suddenly extends a hand to grab your waist.

Easily, he slams you into the wall and his expression is suddenly dangerous.

“And if he wants you in return? What then?” he asks. “He’s made it abundantly clear that he wants you, I doubt your fiancé cares enough to stop him. If you go in his room alone and he pins you down like this, what then?“

The warmth of Levi’s body affects you. You feel his breathing on your forehead, and like always, you just want to reel him in and kiss you like your heart is telling you to.

You think it over.

What if Zeke’s price truly is bedding you? Making you a mistress? A lover? The thought makes you feel dirty. There’s this air of unnerving lust around Zeke, in everything he does to you. You try to imagine surrendering to him, feeling his lips and hands on your throat. Allowing him to disrobe you and have your innocence.

It makes you feel sick. But-

You’re not a child anymore, and you’ve seen what’s at stake. The face of that poor worker boy, born into slavery with no way out, leaving with a glimmer of hope in his eyes, flashes in your mind. Your eyes harden.

“If my body and dignity are the price I have to pay for saving my people-”

Levi’s arm immediately tightens around you. His face twists as his anger flares, and you flinch a little as he slams a fist next to your head.

“Don’t finish that sentence if you know what’s good for you,” he growls.

“To whom I give my body is none of your concern,” you reply, voice cool and collected. You refuse to have him behave like he owns you after turning you down just days prior. And after these outbursts, you’re done trying to hold your end of the deal of pretending that breath-taking, wonderful kiss never happened.

“If you want me, you only need to say so, but you do not hold authority over my body,” you say.

Levi grits his teeth together. You glare at each other for a good while, and you fully anticipate him to lash out at you.

Instead, he takes a deep breath. Against what you anticipate, his eyes lose all edge. He opens his fist and uses the hand to gently hold a lock of your hair on his palm.

“I will go insane,” he confesses, his voice suddenly hoarse and full of pain. He’s allowing you into his heart. “I can live without having you, knowing you’re going to marry another royal and be his respected wife.”

He presses the lock against his lips. He inhales your comforting scent and shudders a little. You’ve never seen him this raw and vulnerable.

“But I can’t live knowing that you allow someone like _him_ have you. Being a bedwarmer for someone like him… Smelling him all over you… I’ll go mad. I can’t live knowing he’s bedding you. Please don’t make me.”

Your heart stops for a moment. For Levi, someone so aloof and withdrawn, to open up to you, it must really be driving him crazy. The gravity of the situation and the intensity of his darkest possessive feelings dawn on you

The flame inside your heart flares, clinging to the opportunity and you speak up before you can think it through.

Your cool gaze turns gentle. You take Levi’s hand and gently bring it to your cheek.

“I do not want either of them. The only scent I want on my skin is yours. If my fate is to forever pine for you, then I do not care who gets me instead.”

His tortured eyes meet your tender yet firm gaze. There’s a conviction to your voice as you tell him something you have always known.

“I’m a royal woman. My body has never been my own. What happens to it has always been up to someone else. My father, my fiancé, the Czar… I have long since accepted that I have no say in who gets to touch my body. It has always been a tool for politics.”

But it doesn’t have to be. You’re suddenly taken over by a surge of brazen thoughts, a will to rebel against the unjust situation you’re in. You grasp Levi’s hand that’s cupping your cheek and press it to your chest.

Levi flinches, scandalised, when he feels his hand close over one of your breasts. Your defiant eyes meet his.

“If you want me, take me,” you challenge him. “If you won’t, then stand aside and let me use my body how it was intended; as a tool.”

He looks incredibly conflicted. Like he’s been starving for his whole life and you’re holding the salvation over his head. A large part of him just wants to give in, pull you in and kiss you. Press his face into your breasts, rub his scent on every inch of your body as he takes your virtue and claims you as his own.

You both know Eren is not going to care whether he marries you while you’re untouched or not. The price for Levi would be the knowledge that he’s betrayed his country.

His hand moves to cup your breast properly. He leans in. Your breaths mingle. His arm pulls you in by your waist. Your hands take support from his arms.

There are only a few pitiful centimetres between your lips. Between what’s honourable and what’s shameful. Between right and wrong.

Then, he reaches a decision and gains a hold of that tiny sliver of sanity holding him back. He pulls away, teeth gritted like it’s causing him physical pain, leaving you breathless and hopeless against the wall.

He can’t do it and live with himself afterwards.

You swallow down thick disappointment and nod to yourself. He doesn’t want to sacrifice what’s at stake. His loyalty and conscience. You’re willing to recklessly throw everything at risk just to have him, but that doesn’t mean he’s willing to do so in return.

You walk to the wardrobe just to throw on a shirt that’s a bit more decent. Then, you grab the key from the desk and walk to the door with every intention of walking out of it, to Zeke’s quarters.

“You can stay here while I go or stand guard outside his quarters while I’m inside. It is your choice.”

He wasn’t expecting that.

You don’t see the expression of pure anguish and panic that instantly spreads on Levi’s face, but the way he practically lunges to you before you can open the door, grabs you, hoists you and carries you to the bed, his heart thundering in his chest, tells you enough.

He pushes you down on the soft cushions and kisses you deeply. You only have time to make a hitched noise, you feel his hands roaming up your stomach, towards your chest.

“Alright,” Levi breathes into the kiss. He sounds aroused but also soul-crushingly sad. Like he’s giving up his whole identity. “Alright. You win. Just… Just don’t go to him.”

You feel something heavy in your stomach, and it takes you a moment to understand it’s guilt. Levi’s going to take you, not because he wants to, but because you’re holding his emotions hostage. He feels like he has no other choice because he can’t bear to see you together with Zeke.

You want him. But not like this. Not when he looks like his heart is about to break in two.

With a sigh, you know you’ve lost. You gently grasp his arms and push him away, enough so you can speak.

“Levi, stop. Do you think I could live with myself if I knew you bedded me, not because you wanted to and because you love me and want to knowingly risk everything because of that, but because I forced you to by threatening to lie with someone else?”

Levi looks a little bit lost. He looks over your swollen lips, the mess he’s already made of your hair, and swallows.

“Then what-”

“I will not go to the czarevich. I will deal with this in another way.”

“What way?”

Levi still doesn’t sound convinced. His hands slide from your stomach to your face, cupping it in his hands and pressing your foreheads together. It feels so right. You just want to pull him back in, kiss him and have your way with him.

Yet, you know you could never forgive yourself if you did so now. If you and Levi are to ever be, you want him to take the leap because he wants to. Not because he feels like he’s been cornered.

You think it over.

“I shall talk to the Czar. When my father comes over for the Czarevich’s wedding, they are bound to have some negotiations face-to-face. I will request a seat at the negotiation table and bring up the issue. Maybe I can secure their release a legitimate way.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

You try to come up with an option that will satisfy both of you. You look into his sharp eyes. They are still doubtful but no longer filled with dread.

“Then I shall deceive the czarevich. Promise him what he wants in exchange for freeing those workers, but once he is done, I never fulfil that promise. In which case, I will need you to rise against your future Czar and shield me from him.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Levi says. “I doubt he will turn to the Czar for assistance in bedding you. He knows the Czar would never allow that. So, my chip can’t be used against me here. But what if the Czarevich demands you do it right then as you agree on the deal?”

“I have my ways to fend him off,” you promise vaguely. Levi narrows his eyes, still not convinced. He’s not going to back down until he’s sure you have a plan.

“What ways?”

“Just… Ways,” you murmur and blush faintly.

“What ways?” he insists, and you roll your eyes with a groan.

“I’ll tell him I’m bleeding,” you spell it out to him. Levi frowns, and it takes him a moment to figure it out. When he does, a look awkward understanding spreads on his face.

“Oh. Right.”

He pulls back with the intention of getting off you, now calmed down, but you stop him by cupping his cheek.

“Levi, my offer will always stand. I want you to claim me. I want to be yours. But only if you willingly choose all that comes with it.”

Levi looks tortured then. He sighs and takes your hand just to place it down.

“I can’t do it. I’m loyal to this country. I can’t betray Varsiko nor the Czar.”

“If you one day will, you only need to say the word and I’m yours.”

With that, you shift and burrow under the blankets, ignoring the way your heart is thundering in your chest.

Levi watches you, his eyes softening with quiet fondness. Then, he goes back to the door and assumes his normal position.

Sleep doesn’t come easy for you that night and by the time you do, Levi’s eyes have already burned a permanent mark in your back.

-

_“Uh… Excuse me.”_

_The two girls stop their play to look down. What they see is a little girl with a nervous, albeit wide smile on her face. She looks at the two older girls with obvious anticipation._

_It’s a gorgeous spring day. The sun is up, the birds are chirping their mating calls. All around the castle are the sounds of buzzing insects, polluting flowers and trees. Horses are neighing in the fields, soldiers are patrolling the castle grounds._

_Monks are walking down the path in the middle of the grass field towards the small monastery further away, retreating for their midday prayer._

_The two girls are dressed in laced dresses. Posh and proper, they are sitting at the table playing with a deck of Liak cards._

_The girl who interrupted them is hardly tall enough to be able to peek over the table._

_“What do you want?” one of the girls at the table asks, her voice sharp and hostile. The smaller girl’s smile wavers but doesn’t disappear._

_“My… My mum said that you are my sisters. That we have the same father.”_

_The girls pause to give her a long, confused look. They’ve never seen this girl before, and it only clicks who she is when they see the woman sitting further away, looking worried and like she very much advised the little girl against doing this._

_“It is the youngest one,” one girl whispers to the other, so loud the little girl can hear them. “The one born to that wench.”_

_“I heard Mum tell another woman of the court that she was not untouched when Father bedded her.”_

_“What does that mean?”_

_“I do not know, but it sounds bad.”_

_They stop their loud whispering to look at the girl with openly disgusted eyes._

_“We are no sisters of yours. Begone,” one of them then orders._

_The little girl’s smile falls and her hopes of playing cards with the girls shatter._

_“But… But my mum said-“_

_“Your mum is nothing but a wench.”_

_“What is a wench?”_

_“Something you will inevitably become when you grow up,” one of the girls shoots. The other immediately gasps._

_“Oh, that was mean!” she giggles._

_“Do not call my mum a wench if it is something bad,” the little girl tries, but it only eggs the two others on._

_“But she is a wench. A wench, a wench, a wench!” one starts sing-songing, and the other soon joins in._

_The little girl watches helplessly as the two girls take their playing cards and scuttle away while chanting, leaving her alone at the table._

_She feels confused. She’s done nothing to these people, why do they hate her so much?_

_Not left alone for long, someone soon comes to her. An older boy with fancy clothes and a warm smile, walking a tall horse behind him._

_“Do not worry about those two. They are a pain,” he tells her with a smile. “You are Cora, right? The youngest princess. I have never seen you before.”_

_The little girl gives him a clumsy, rehearsed curtsey. The sight makes him chuckle._

_“I’m Sirius. Your older brother. Those two do not want to play with you, but I can. Have you ever ridden a horse?”_

_She looks up at the animal. Its marble white fur it’s almost glowing in the sunshine. It looks tall yet very gentle, much like the man handling it. Eventually, she nods after giving her mother a glance to confirm she’s alright with it._

_“Alright. I will help you on.”_

_Grateful and with eyes full of wonder, the girl climbs on with her brother’s help, unaware that he will be one of the only handful of loving relationships she’ll ever have in this castle._

-

You open your eyes with an ache for home.

What an odd thing to dream about. You sit up and move to get dressed. Levi’s standing by the door as usual, and only when you’re halfway to the bathroom do you realise he’s asleep.

Just as he said, he’s standing completely still, his breathing calm and steady, a hand resting on the handle of his sword.

The only thing giving him away is the way his eyes are closed. From behind, anyone would mistake him to be standing guard as usual.

You can’t contain your curiosity. You tiptoe closer and carefully peer at his face. He looks peaceful. His statue-like face is completely still, and you can hear his steady breathing.

He’s gorgeous.

With that thought, you lean even closer and reach a hand to touch him. Only, that’s when his soldier instincts kick in and he snatches your wrist with lightning reflexes.

His eyes snap open, and for a moment he just looks at you, brows furrowed in annoyance.

“What are you doing?” he asks and releases his hold. You rub your wrist a little and shrug with a guilty smile.

“I have never seen you sleep before. I was curious.”

“Well, now you know how uninteresting it is to watch other people sleep.”

At that, you pause as something occurs to you. You turn where you were on your way to freshen up and give him a look he catches.

“What?”

“Was my room arrest not lifted?”

“Evidently, since you’ve been allowed to move around the castle.”

“Then, why are you still my only guard?”

At that, Levi’s face turns a bit more closed off. You can immediately tell he’s keeping something from you.

“Levi,” you call with a warning tone. “What are you keeping from me?

He glares at you, trying to will you to drop it, but you don’t relent. You cross your arms and just look on expectantly.

“While you sleep, the Czar sometimes sends a letter introducing new guards but so far, I don’t trust any of them and have turned them down.”

“You do not trust any of them?”

“Well, one did try to kill you.”

“That is a fair point, but you cannot keep guarding me by yourself forever. You need days off. Rest. Proper sleep, not just snoozing while standing guard.”

“I’m fine, little miss. I’ve functioned on less sleep.”

“That does not mean you should,” you point out with a worried frown. You’re not surprised Levi doesn’t trust anyone with looking after you, but this situation is still unsustainable.

You sigh. Despite all that, there are more pressing issues at hand now. You’ll have to put a pin on this.

“Call for Maid Springer, please. I wish to be presentable before breakfast,” you tell Levi. He looks at you warily.

“Why?”

“I will request a slot at the negotiation table for when my father arrives.”

At that, Levi detaches his back from the wall and cracks the door open to order a passing maid to fetch Maid Springer.

Thirty minutes later, you leave the bedroom and allow Levi to guide you to the Czar’s office. Around you, the castle has woken up with the first rays of sunshine. The closer you get to the Czar’s quarters, the livelier it gets. More soldiers, more maids, more servant boys.

Your chambers are stowed away in the far end of the West Wing, which mostly consists of storage areas and servant quarters. The Czar, however, has his office in the lively North Wing.

The door to the Czar’s office looks like any other door. Grey and dull-looking, you have to double-check with Levi as he nods towards it.

“Wait outside,” you instruct Levi first, and then knock. A couple of alchemists, on their way to the Wing of Science, give you a short look as they pass by, but otherwise, no one seems to pay too much attention to you.

You’re becoming a part of the backdrop. A sight so common no one pays attention to you anymore.

“Come in.”

It’s not the Czar’s voice that calls you, but a woman’s. When you crack the door open and walk in, you’re not too surprised to see the Czarina and you give her your customary curtsey.

You’ve never been to the Czar’s office before, and it’s quite a bit smaller than you expected. The walls are a dull grey colour and filled with portraits of people you don’t know. Most of them look old and serious, and you wonder if they’re the previous czars.

There are a bookcase and a deep red satin armchair in the corner, next to the door leading to a small, private balcony. The Czar’s desk, at which the Czarina is sitting in her regular, long dress and tiara, is so wide it takes up most of the wall.

On the desk are a quill and some ink, a few unnamed books, a half-drunk cup of tea that’s still steaming a little and tall stacks of papers. What gains your interest, in particular, is the huge pile of unopened letters, next to a smaller pile of opened ones.

The Czarina sees where you’re looking because she smiles a little.

“Grisha was just in the process of opening his daily mail.”

Daily? You knew the Czar is busy, but this busy…

“I’m here to talk to his grace.”

“I surmised as much,” the Czarina says. “He went to attend to some urgent business, but he should be back in a moment. Please, have a seat.”

She gestures towards a chair by the wall next to the desk, and you obediently sit down.

Now that you think about it, it’s the first time you’ve been alone with the Czarina. You look over her well-meaning, youthful features.

Carla Yeager. The second Czarina.

“Your grace, may I ask?”

“You already did. But you can ask again,” she smiles. Compared to how stiff and formal she was with you at first, she seems to have somewhat relaxed in your presence now.

“Did you grow up in Varsiko, or are you from abroad?”

“I’m from Ljudel, like the previous Czarina. Varsiko is not a large country, most royals marry from or to abroad.”

You nod.

“Is there a specific reason both of you fare from Ljudel?” you ask curiously.

“Securing resources. Varsiko wants to stay on their good side, Ljudel is the closest non-hostile country and the only one with deposits of some metals Varsiko needs for weapons and augmentations.”

“I see.”

You give the Czarina a curious glance, wondering if she hates Novaryn as much as Varsikovians do. Novaryn has no hostilities with Ljudel, a medium-sized, old kingdom East of Varsiko.

“How are things going? With Eren?” the Czarina asks. “I notice you haven’t spent much time with him.”

You look over the Czarina’s gentle face and eventually, you decide to be upfront.

“I try not to pressure him too much. He is not fond of this union. Not that I expected him to be. But I would not want to be too clingy.”

The Czarina looks rather bothered for a moment. She looks at her folded hands on her lap, thinking it over. How much she can trust you. How much she can entrust you with.

“If you ever… Find out something you find objectionable about his interpersonal relationships, just know that you have all the right to tell him to cut it out,” she finally says, arranging her words carefully.

You blink at her. Then, you understand exactly what she means.

She knows about Historia and Eren. She must. Which is why she’s so worried about you and Eren. You wonder if the Czar knows as well.

“I do not wish to chain my fiancé from his happiness. This is a political marriage, I could not fault him for having already given his heart to someone else.”

Outright telling her is not an option to you. Information, and how much of it you possess, is a valuable resource.

Keep your cards close to your chest. Just like your mother taught you.

Looking a bit taken aback, the Czarina finally sighs.

“You’re a good child. I know you will make a wonderful wife to my son. And I hope he will see that in time as well and settle down. But you know how youth is. He’s only fifteen. He’s rebellious like anyone his age.”

You can hear the defensiveness in the Czarina’s voice, as if she’s trying to win you over and make you understand why Eren’s the way he is. Of course, she’s not completely wrong. At fifteen, most people want to rebel against the world around them.

You have already outgrown this phase, but you can recall the way you defied your mother during those years. Spent hours after curfew in the meadows and fields, just staring at the brilliant sky full of stars, ignoring the worried calls of your maids as they searched for you in the dark yard.

That being said, Eren is also complicit in trying to smoke you out of the castle and in the worst-case scenario, kill you. But that’s not something you can disclose to the Czarina, so you merely smile.

Just as you do, you hear some muffled voices from behind the door and soon after, the door is opened and the Czar walks in.

“Cora,” he greets. “I just exchanged a few words with Captain Levi outside. He said you have something you wish to discuss with me.”

“Your grace,” you greet with a curtsey.

“How many times do I need to tell you to not refer to me so formally,” he scolds you gently. The Czarina raises from the chair so the Czar may take a seat, and wanders to the corner where the armchair is.

“Please, sit.”

You sit back down on the chair and adjust the hems of your skirts nervously. You need to appear steadfast and calm. You hear the steady stream of soldiers and maids walking by the office, but the guards standing outside, as well as Levi, should make sure no one comes here unannounced.

“Your grace, I was told that my father will be visiting soon and that you are to engage in some negotiations with him and the head of the Varsikovian army before the Czarevich’s wedding. I wish to participate in those negotiations.”

The Czar blinks, a little surprised.

“Who told you this?”

“The Czarevich.”

Sighing deeply, the Czar holds his head. He glances at you, only to wince. He’s not dumb, he’s caught onto most of what’s happened and why you suddenly want to participate. And he’s not happy about it.

“Cora, listen,” he starts with a heavy tone. He sits up properly and links his fingers over his lap. You look at his luxurious silk shirt, his expensive and recently waxed leather boots, his diamond-covered crown. He looks every bit like a monarch.

You wonder if your father will look similar.

“I know what you saw inside that factory with Zeke may have disturbed you. But please understand that the negotiations with your father will be highly confidential and only the most crucial members of the two nations are allowed to attend.”

So, he won’t just agree to it. You thought that might be the case.

Lucky for you, you’re not entirely helpless. You have some things to use to your advantage.

“With all due respect, your grace, may I be frank?”

“You always may, dear.”

“I am the link between our two nations. I am perhaps the only one who can see this conflict from both sides because I have observed it from both Novaryn and Varsiko. I have studied the history of our nations and conversed with the people around me with every intention to learn and understand. I come from Novaryn, but in a short while, I will become a Varsikovian. What am I, if not a crucial member of our nations?”

For a moment, the Czar doesn’t know what to say. He looks a little nervous but still mostly on top of things.

“These negotiations require a high degree of expertise from its participants. You are hardly of age and you have no experience.”

“I have almost been killed for this peace and I’m giving away not only my life but my soul as well to make this peace happen.”

“Trust me, Cora, we will make it happen.”

“But with those people in factories still there, doomed to an eternity of servitude that they pass on to their children. I cannot give my life away under such circumstances. I refuse.”

“My child,” the Czar is still calm and patient, yet there is a firmness to his voice. He bears no ill will towards you, he understands where you’re coming from. But he can’t let this go. “That part was insisted upon by Admiral Zackly. Unfortunately, that’s his stance.”

“I can attempt to change it.”

“No.”

“Your grace, I am begging you-”

“I’m sorry, my dear but I can’t allow it, no matter how much you beg to be a part of the negotiations.”

“No, your grace, you have misunderstood.” You stand up and your eyes are now firm and hard. The trained smile is gone.

“I am begging you, not to allow me at that negotiation table but to allow me at that table with minimal damage to the relations between our nations.”

The Czar looks scandalised. He was not expecting this.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I know things about this nation that Novaryn should never find out. And they never will, should I have any say in it. But I will use this knowledge to hurt your side of the negotiations if I have to,” you say.

The Czar’s eyes suddenly widen. He exchanges an unsettled look with the Czarina, who looks equally horrified. Getting on his feet, he walks a bit closer.

“What do you know?” he asks, obviously nervous. You narrow your eyes. There’s clearly something the Czar doesn’t want you to find out about, but whether it has something to do with Zeke, the murder attempt or something completely else, you don’t know.

“I know a lot of things, your grace, but the worst of it would be enough to make these negotiations fall through. Or at least, put you in a very, _very_ tight spot with them.”

The Czar thinks it over. His fingers are tapping his arm and his heel is bouncing off the shining floors as he ponders furiously how to get on top of things.

“Fine,” he finally relents. “I will grant you a slot in the negotiation table as the second official of Novaryn.”

“Thank you, your grace. I hope you do not think too ill of me for forcing your hand like this.”

“No, not at all. I… Understand,” the Czar sighs. “Just know that whatever you have found out, we only did what we must to protect our own.”

“And I’m doing what I must to protect mine. So, I guess that makes us equal.“

The Czar chuckles, though rather joylessly at that.

“I suppose.”

“It was a pleasure to talk to you, your grace.” You properly curtsey to both the Czar and Czarina before walking to the door. You wonder what the Czar freaked out so much about. What piece of knowledge is he so scared of you or Novaryn knowing that he bent to your demands like this?

Maybe he knows more about the murder attempt than he lets on. Maybe he knows more about Zeke’s motivations than you do.

You step outside and close the door after yourself. You take a deep breath.

It’s the first time you’ve gone against the Czar like this. It was a risky move, and it might backfire on you as you just lost a little bit of his favour, but it was what needed to be done.

“How did it go?”

Giving Levi a small look, you smile.

“I made it. I’m allowed in. I had to use some leverage, though.”

The Czar needs to only question Levi, and he’ll find out exactly what you know. You have no doubt he’ll do that. In the process, if he uses the chip to force Levi to tell the truth, he might learn that it was Historia behind the attempt on your life and what transpired between you and Zeke.

You hope it doesn’t occur to him to force Levi using the chip. It’s a risk you need to take.

As you enter your quarters, you feel just a little better. Levi’s back to normal, his feelings no longer unstable and swinging like a pendulum. You managed to secure a shot at trying to get those people out of the factories without having to surrender yourself to Zeke.

And you finally feel like somebody. Somebody with power. Somebody who matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have the birth of Diplomat Reader who partakes in politics and starts playing those dangerous games. Hope it doesn't backfire on her. Levi's jealousy issues show no signs of calming down, though.
> 
> I hope everyone's New Year has started well. We narrowly missed WW3 so that's always a plus.
> 
> Anyway, I love comments and they truly motivate me. I always get a rush of feel-good hormones whenever I get an email notification from Ao3, so if you'd like to encourage me to keep doing what I love, please consider taking the time to leave a comment ^^
> 
> Until next time!


	12. The Price of Freedom

Time rolls by slowly for you. Days trickle past you while you do nothing but burrow yourself in your chambers to study.

You have your spot at the negotiation table, but that doesn’t mean that your work is done until your father arrives. And the closer the day of his arrival gets, the more you feel that mild sense of dread gaining a chokehold over your windpipe.

To be honest, you’re terrified. Of facing your father. Of testing your wings among seasoned veterans and diplomats. You, a dumb little princess whose word didn’t weigh for anything not six months back.

Thus, you spend all of your time outside meals in your room, huddled over a book trying to think of something, anything, to use as leverage during the negotiations.

There has to be something Novaryn is willing to give and Varsiko wants, enough so that they’ll let the slaves go upon your request.

You won’t only face against Admiral Darius Zackly, but also your father. Both of which are adamant that these slaves don’t need their freedom.

At night, you can’t sleep. Sometimes, the face of that young slave boy, the hopefulness, the youth that had yet to be ruined by the harsh cynicism of living, haunts you when you close your eyes.

You have no idea how you’re going to keep your promise to him, but you will. You have to.

With that thought, you find yourself at your usual spot. It’s a week before your father’s arrival and two weeks before Zeke and Historia’s wedding. You read and read until your eyes are watery and sensitive. Until the weight of your eyelids gets too much and you slump down on your desk and fall asleep.

You’re so tired you don’t stir when a pair of strong arms grab you and you’re carried off to bed.

Levi tucks you in, accustomed to it at this point. He feels the tug in his chest still, the temptation to sink his hand into your silky hair, kiss your forehead and tell you it will be fine.

He keeps his desires at bay and walks to the door.

When you wake up in the morning, you’re none the wiser as for how to deal with the upcoming negotiations. It’s as if you jumped into a dark void with no torch and are now scrambling to make your way through the blackness.

You sit up on the bed and blink the sleep from your eyes. You’re running out of time. You have less than a week to prepare and so far you have nothing.

“What is Darius Zackly like?” you ask. Your voice is stuffy and hoarse from sleep.

“He’s a ruthless man who has everything he wants within reach,” Levi explains from the door. His eyes are observing you, gauging your mood as the deadline draws nearer.

“Everything he wants, huh…” you sigh. How do you win over a man like that? What can you possibly offer him that he doesn’t already possess? He’s not like Zeke, he has no interest in you. To him, you’re probably but a foolish little girl.

Maid Springer comes in to make you presentable as usual. You’re a little distracted, deep in thought, and it’s not until the door to your room is barged open that you snap out of it.

“Your grace! An urgent letter!”

You turn to see Sasha, who’s drenched in sweat. She’s trying to catch her breath, doubled over and she casually takes support from Levi’s shoulder to stabilise herself, him being a perfect height for a walking stick.

Levi immediately ducks out of the way.

“Touch me one more time, girl, and you’re fired,” Levi snaps at her poisonously. You would pause for a second to look at the scene with much amusement, but the urgency in Sasha’s eyes piques your curiosity.

“You look like you rode here full speed,” you point out as you walk to her and take the envelope from her. You don’t recognise the handwriting on the top and when you turn the envelope over, you see the royal insignia.

It’s not your mother or Sirius, you would recognise their handwriting. Then, who is it?

“I did ride here full speed. They told me that if I don’t get this letter to you in two days, I would regret it. Novarynians…” she shakes her head. “Connie even fell off his horse and hurt his shoulder.”

At that, Maid Springer pauses where she was folding your nightgown into the dresser. She doesn’t say anything, she’s too professional to, but you can feel her worry.

“Maid Springer, that is quite enough for this morning. I do not need room cleaning today, so I will not be needing you until evening,” you tell her and give her an encouraging smile.

She curtseys and hurries for the door.

“Thank you, your grace. Blessed girl,” she sighs to herself, and then she’s gone to go check on Connie at the infirmary.

Turning your attention back to the letter, you look at the royal insignia. You absent-mindedly hand Sasha an apple, and as she skips out of the room, happy with her compensation, you open the letter.

You look over the ornate, meticulously rehearsed cursive that’s a bit hard to read and the second your eyes land on the first word, you feel cold. As if the attitude of the writer is seeping off the parchment and melting into your bloodstream through your fingertips.

_To My 13th Daughter, Cora:_

_I have received the word that you have insisted upon participating in the negotiations as the second diplomat of Novaryn come my visit. I hope you understand that this means that I am no longer allowed to have my assistant, who has managed the conflict between Novaryn and Varsiko for almost forty years, with me during negotiations._

_I sincerely hope you know what you are doing and will not put Novaryn in a disadvantageous position just for the sake of feeling a sense of purpose or importance._

_Think through things carefully and weigh honestly what you can bring to this negotiation. Please let me know if you will attend or not via letter before my arrival._

_Regards,  
His Supreme Excellency,_  
_T__he Esteemed Ruler of the Western Star,  
257th Monarch of Novaryn,  
King Olaf Reader the Third_

You read over the letter and sigh. It includes exactly what you surmised it would. A call to step back and let adults handle affairs. A strategically guilt-inducing statement about how someone much more deserving is now unjustly being denied his seat at the negotiation tables.

This man has never extended a kind word towards you. Hell, he has not extended a word towards you, period.

You feel Levi hovering behind you. He’s without a doubt peered over your shoulder and read the letter as well.

You’re alone in the room, and thus you dare to lean back until your back meets his chest. He lets you.

“Meet my father,” you mutter joylessly.

“He sounds like a snobbish asshole,” comes Levi’s honest assessment. You chuckle a little and turn to give him a vulnerable yet determined smile.

“How unwise would it be to not take this lying down?”

“You’re the diplomat here. I am but your brawn.”

“You know you are more than that,” you scold him and huff. “Without you, I would be lost.”

The stormy grey of Levi’s eyes turns warmer for a fleeting moment, like a beacon of light in the darkness you’re stumbling through.

You want to kiss him so bad.

“Hold me,“ you plead breathlessly. Your father may not love you, but Levi does. You need to feel loved.

Levi looks conflicted. He wants to. He wants to wrap his arms around you and claim you as his own, comfort you and shield you from the coldness of the letter.

“I can’t.”

His eyes shine with quiet remorse. You drop your gaze and nod.

You know.

You steel your heart and pull yourself away from him. Instead, you walk to your desk and take out a parchment paper.

Your father may think that he holds authority over you, but he doesn’t seem to have understood that this is your ground now. He is but a guest whereas you have slowly become familiar with handling this court.

_Your Highness,_ you start, making sure to not refer to him as anything warm. Especially not as _father_.

_Thank you for your kind letter. I understand your worry about being parted from your assistant and I acknowledge that I am still new to diplomacy._

_However, as a future member of the Varsikovian royal family, I think my perspective will be advantageous in our negotiations. The mere fact that I managed to talk his grace the Czar over into allowing me to participate should be proof enough that I know how to handle diplomatic matters._

_Now, I completely understand why you would rather rely on your assistant who has handled the conflict for almost forty years. The fact that it took them around 39 years to end this war does pose a threat on their image as someone capable of handling such manners, but I can understand the desire to work with tools you know._

_Despite this, I am confident in my ability to be of help and look forward to working with you, your grace._

_Regards,  
Her Superior Aristocracy,  
13th Princess of Novaryn,  
Betrothed of _Czarevich_ Eren Yeager,  
Princess Cora Reader (The First)_

This letter is not just a touch saucy. It’s outrageously bold. Preposterously attitude heavy. But you’re not in the mood to coddle your father. He’s a seasoned diplomat, after all, he can deal with you being a bit on the nose.

You seal the letter and send it away with a hawk before you can change your mind. Then, you turn to Levi, now determined.

“Can you arrange a meeting with Darius Zackly?”

-

Levi doesn’t like this idea at all. He looks at you prolongedly all morning on the day you’re due to dine with Admiral Darius Zackly, and if it wasn’t for the fact that you’ve asked him to stop nagging about it, he would without a doubt start yet another debate about whether you should call this off.

He arranged the meeting for you, but he’s not happy about it. Even less so when Darius Zackly actually accepted the offer and invited you for a private dinner.

The rumours have spread throughout the castle during the night and when you step out of your quarters, you can feel a few pairs of eyes on you, mostly from curious maids and alchemists walking by.

It’s not often a royal tries to meddle with military affairs. It’s probably unheard of, especially for in-laws. In the opinion of many, you’re stepping way out of line.

Despite this, you keep your head high as you make your way to the dining hall for breakfast. You excused Maid Springer again after she made you presentable and sent her away with a basket of peaches. Connie, luckily, is not dangerously injured but he did break his shoulder blade and twist his ankle, deeming him bedbound for now.

The Czar has without a doubt heard of your dinner meeting, and it’s evident in the way his eyes follow you as you walk in the dining hall and take a seat. You pretend not to notice but instead, start eating like it’s nothing but a normal, pleasant morning. A bit cold for late Solar spring but nothing out of the norm.

You eat in silence, only the sounds of your utensils and passing soldiers in the corridor filling the space. Everyone knows what the awkward atmosphere is about yet no one speaks up.

For a fleeting moment, you think no one will.

“Why are you meeting with the Admiral?”

You raise your gaze at the blunt question and give Eren a cool raise of an eyebrow.

“Excuse me?”

“Why are you meeting with the Admiral?” he repeats the question.

“Because I have never met him and want to formally introduce myself before the negotiations start.”

“Why would he agree to see you for something so trivial? He’s a busy man.”

“Because I asked him to and it is good manners?”

As unfathomable as the concept of good manners probably is to Eren.

“You’re up to something. I don’t trust you.”

“You not trusting me is hardly news to me,” you reply coolly. You’re done being meek and obedient to Eren when he’s never as much as said a kind word to you. “My business is my own. Now excuse me, my omelette is getting cold.”

You resume eating, ignoring the way Eren gives you suspicious looks. The atmosphere is now awkward, but when you glance at the others, you see that the Czar and Czarina are not glaring at you for being rude to your fiancé, but instead glaring at Eren for being so disrespectful towards you.

Historia gives you a sympathetic wince and Zeke’s eyes are again shining with something unreadable. Whatever it is, you don’t like it.

“Of course, you are free to go and meet Admiral Zackly,” Czar Yeager says to ease the tension in the room. “Just be advised that he is a… Rather unique man.”

“Do not worry, your grace. I can deal with unique,” you promise him with a sincere smile. You swallow down the heavy feeling in your stomach that knows you’re grasping at straws. There’s nothing you can offer Admiral Zackly that he couldn’t already get on his own.

But you need to try. Strike some kind of deal. Find anything, any kind of weakness to exploit.

You keep it all off your face and instead focus on eating. When you’re done, you get up, curtsey and leave without a word. Levi follows you, as usual.

“What can you tell me about Admiral Zackly?” you ask when you’re out of earshot.

“He’s a ruthless military commander devoted to his work and an eccentric,” Levi tells you. “He gets the job done but he was never as charismatic as Nimbus Zackly, the most popular admiral of recent history. He’s reluctant about the peace because if the military’s vitality is eroded, he loses power.”

You nod thoughtfully. You have all day to get ready. You had better use the time to your advantage. You set course towards the library and pick up some history books. This time about the Zackly family.

Idly, you sit down by the window and start shuffling through the books. The library is, as usual, empty.

It’s a long shot. Levi watches quietly as you work.

The Zackly dynasty started with the success of Nimbus Zackly, Darius Zackly’s grandfather. You know of the Siege of Lienov 73 years ago when he successfully prevented Varsiko from being annexed and even managed to capture Sorn, a small town near the border of Varsiko in East Novaryn, in a historic assault by Varsikovian forces.

After he fell to an orchestrated assassination conducted by what were allegedly Novarynian spies, his son, Titus, took control of the army. His reign, from what you’ve read in _Song of Steel_, was not up to par. Some call it _a bit unfocused_ but most call it sloppy and amateurish.

During those times, the focus was placed on alchemy and other scholarly activities and the war was fought very defensively, so much so that Varsiko struggled to hold the line and secure resources to keep the war going. That, and the Nambalese civil war really suckled a lot of Varsiko’s resources at the cost of being forced to give some leeway to Novaryn.

On the plus side, alchemy made notable strides under his leadership. Nonetheless, no one was upset when Darius Zackly rose to power and took the Admiral position from his father when he was still in his early thirties. Titus Zackly retired gladly and left everything up to his son.

Darius Zackly managed to utilise the breakthroughs in alchemy smartly and go full-on aggressive against Novaryn. He was the one who demanded Nambala be annexed to Varsiko with the marriage between Historia and Zeke.

You don’t even need to put two and two together, it’s obvious it was Darius Zackly who insisted Rod Reiss, the ruler of Nambala, was not allowed to have other children to make sure Historia’s bind to Zeke means Nambalese annexation.

Ruthless, calculating and efficient. That’s the image you get of Darius Zackly from the books.

It’s nearing dinnertime when you finally slip back to your quarters to prepare yourself.

Maid Springer is already waiting for you. Looking as stern as usual, she hurries to you.

“Where have you been, child? We need to get started right away!”

“Started for what?” you ask her, a bit confused.

“You’re going to meet Admiral Zackly, right? You can’t just march in there in some regular attire! He’s the most respected man in this country, for me to allow to go see the Admiral in such a casual attire would be treason on my part,” she squawks.

She looks strict yet oddly excited as she ushers you to the bathroom. Inside, she’s already filled the bathtub with warm water. She’s even gone as far as placing rosebuds in your bath to make you smell sweeter.

You look at her as she starts unfastening your dress.

“Maid Springer…” you start. “Are you… An admirer of Admiral Zackly’s?”

Immediately, Maid Springer’s cheeks gain a barely visible layer of red.

“That man is the best thing that’s happened to this country in the last hundred years,” Maid Springer announces. Naked, you slip into the bath and allow her to bathe you. Usually, you prefer to clean by yourself, but you can see she’s not going to let that happen today. She wants to make sure not an inch of your skin escapes the rose-tinted water and soap.

“Do you… Like the Varsikovian army?” you ask her. She purses her lips, contemplating how much to tell you about her political stance. Then, finally, she speaks as she scrubs your hair with lavender water.

“I grew up while Titus Zackly was still in power. I remember the struggle. The famine. My brother died in the front lines, along with countless other young men who caved under the immense pressure from Novaryn’s side while Titus Zackly was busy directing our hard-earned tax money towards Alchemical research. We were hungry and miserable. But Darius Zackly… He turned things around. I’m proud that my son serves the army, even if it’s only as a messenger. I’m proud to call myself a supporter of Darius Zackly. He changed this country and fed my family when no one else did.”

“But he-” You trail off and bite your lip. You want to protest by telling her what Darius Zackly has done to Nambala. To the Novarynian slaves in those factories. Who knows how he treats the other Varsikovian colonies?

But, you know better. To Maid Springer, it’s not that deep. In Maid Springer’s eyes, she was hungry and then she was fed. In her eyes, she was cold and then offered warmth. And for that, she is loyal to Darius Zackly who systematically oppresses people outside Varsiko.

Just like you’re loyal to Novaryn, a country who invaded Varsiko a hundred years ago and has since been a constant aggressor, ransacked Varsikovian cities and hijacked their seafaring vessels.

It’s not because Novaryn is good and Varsiko is bad, but because it’s what you’ve been raised to do. It’s never as simple as good versus evil. What these two countries have done to each other cannot be undone with a marriage and a contract. It will take generations of cooperation to erase the bad blood, and Maid Springer likely will never feel sympathy for Novaryn.

“Maid Springer, why are you so kind to me?” you ask. “I’m a Novarynian. My country is the reason you were hungry growing up.”

“Because you were kind to me and my son,” she responds with a shrug. “My child, you may be an apple of a rotten tree, but sometimes good people come from bad places.”

To her, it’s that simple. Being good to those who are good to her and rooting for the destruction of those who treat her badly.

As you get out of the bathroom, Levi steps outside. Maid Springer starts fastening a corset on you and then pulls on a dress made of smooth grey silk. The material is so fine it feels like liquid under your fingertips. Maid Springer fastens it on, helps you in a pair of glass slippers and then cinches your waist with a red silky rope.

He pulls your hair up on a sharp-looking, tight bun and ties it with a red ribbon. She then adds a liberal layer of makeup. When you look in the mirror, you hardly recognise yourself.

Veiled in grey and red, your hair pulled completely off your face and shoulders, the dark grey she dabbed around your eyes, the crimson red of your lipstick.

You look every bit like a hard, Varsikovian militant princess.

The look is foreign to you. When Levi steps back inside as Maid Springer excuses herself, he pauses to give you a once-over.

“You don’t look like yourself,” he points out immediately. You wince.

“Thank my maid.”

Levi opens his mouth to answer just as someone knocks on the door. Before you can call for them to come in, the door is already swung open.

The second Levi sees Zeke, he leaps between you.

“Down, boy,” Zeke grins. “Reiner, keep Levi company outside.”

“I’m not going to leave you alone with her,” Levi announces with gritted teeth. Zeke chuckles.

“I’m here to give your precious princess some pointers so she doesn’t get devoured alive by Darius Zackly. You’d be smart to let me give them to her if you want any hope of her successfully making her demands.”

“Why can’t you tell them while I’m here?” Levi asks. He’s lucky Zeke doesn’t care about how informal he’s being. He’d have all the higher ground to fire or order Levi to lose his head for talking to him like that.

“Because your possessive rage is amusing to witness.”

You finish pulling on a pair of red silken gloves and turn to Zeke. You give him a wary look but finally nod to Levi.

“Go. I shall call for you if he acts inappropriately.”

“No.”

“Levi, that is an order. I want to hear what he has to say.”

Levi glares at the both of you for a moment and then slowly, reluctantly, moves for the door. Reiner follows him, as stoic and quiet as always, and when the door closes after them, Zeke turns to you.

“You look breath-taking. Your maid knows what she’s doing. You look like a stone-hard diplomat.”

“How kind of you to say,” you reply, your voice on the glacial side.

“So, you decided to ignore my offer and instead go down the proper, hard route. You know, I would have freed those slaves with no strings attached to you,” he hums and walks to your vanity. He pauses to examine your hairbrush on the table.

“But at what cost?” you point out. “Judging from your behaviour, you were not going to just give it all to me for free.”

“The price would have been your affections, pet.”

“My affections will never be yours, Zeke Yeager. Never.”

He turns to face your determined eyes. You stare him down. He doesn’t look intimidated. Instead, he reaches a harmless hand and gently grasps your neck.

“One way or another, I will have you, pet. You’re caught in my web. You may struggle but eventually, you’ll run out of strength and succumb to me.”

“You may keep hoping that, but I will never surrender.”

“We’ll see how long you can hold out when I’m the Czar.” He chuckles. He moves his hand up from your throat to your cheek. His thumb brushes over your rouged lips.

“I’m your brother’s fiancée. Do you detest him so?”

“It’s not you that he wants,” Zeke tells you with a snort. “He fools around with my soon-to-be wife plenty, it’s only fair I get to do so in return with his.”

So, he knows. And he doesn’t care.

“Do you dislike Historia?”

“She’s nothing but a tool. I’ll marry her, breed with her and keep Nambala happy and trouble-free by using her name as diplomatic leverage. I could not care less whom she sees behind my back, so long as she knows better than letting my brother impregnate her.”

“Do you love me, your grace?” you ask. At that, Zeke laughs.

“Not any more than a man loves his pet or slave. I want you. I will have you. And then I will own you. It’s the chase that excites me, once I own you, you’ll be but a porcelain doll in my collection. Beautiful, fun to use, but hardly valuable.”

Your eyes flare and you raise your hand with every intention of slapping him for talking to you like this. He catches your wrist and leans in. His breath is feather-light on your ear as he grasps your waist and brings you close.

“You have a way. You have something that you can offer Darius Zackly that is worth more to him than the slaves at the factories. Losing them just means losing money. What you can offer is invaluable.”

You’re wary, but you’re listening, your previous anger forgotten for now. You place a hand on his chest in a futile attempt to get some distance between you.

“And what is that way?”

“You’re a smart pet, you can figure it out,” he hums. “What would a man like Darius Zackly want?”

“He is not into young girls, is he?“

Zeke chuckles.

“Not that I know of.”

“Then what is it he wants? Tell me,” you urge Zeke. He leans closer until his lips are inches from yours.

“Allow me to steal a kiss, and I’ll tell you,” he offers. You feel his entitled arm on your waist, his breath against your lips. You think it over.

“I’ll give you a hint. It’s something your hound has but can’t give to you. Those who have it wish they didn’t, those who give it wish they didn’t have to.”

You frown. A riddle? What does Levi have that he can’t give away? His strength? His expertise? No, that wouldn’t make any sense.

Zeke leans even closer.

“So, what will it be? One kiss and I’ll tell you exactly how to get Darius Zackly to cooperate with you. Your hound will never find out.”

Your eyes flare up with anger again and this time, you’re not to be distracted. You’ve had enough.

“I would rather cast myself down the Well of Damnation and forever wander the drought of the Underlands than lay my lips on a single part of your body. You are a disgusting, vile man who enjoys toying with those weaker than him and for that, I despise and pity you.”

Then, you rear your head back just to pucker your lips and send a glob of spit flying at his face. It lands on his cheek.

For a precious second, you see Zeke Yeager’s surprised face for the first time. His raised eyebrows, wide eyes and ajar mouth. Then, his eyes light up with silent amusement. Yours are narrowed and angry as you stare him down.

How dare he talk to you like this. Treat you like this. Touch you like this. Enough is enough.

“Levi, come back in, please.”

The second you finish the command, Levi yanks the door open and marches in. He pauses to check the scene. You’re still in Zeke’s hold, his arm around your waist and his hand resting on your cheek.

Levi’s eyes flash and he walks to you, grabs you and pulls you out of Zeke’s grasp. He shoves you behind him and turns to face Zeke.

It’s only then he notices the spit. He pauses, and his eyes gain a deep shade of approval. Zeke’s had this coming.

Zeke gestures for Reiner to stay still as the man takes a threatening step towards you upon noticing the spit. Zeke reaches his ring finger and gathers just a droplet of your saliva.

Then, to your absolute horror, he smirks and licks it clean.

He takes out a handkerchief from the pocket of his silken jacket and casually wipes the rest off. He doesn’t look angry. If anything, he’s egged on even more to rile you up. He wants to see what you will do if you get even angrier.

“You taste sweeter than I thought,” he remarks casually. Levi takes a threatening step towards him, ready to just throw him out. Zeke holds up his hands with a grin.

“Easy, hound. I’m going.”

As soon as the pair are out of the door, Levi hurries to check on you.

“Tell me what he did. Now.”

“He tried to exchange pointers for romantic favours,” you tell him. His eyes pause on your lips, your lipstick a little smeared by Zeke’s thumb. His eyes narrow suspiciously.

“You didn’t-“

“Of course, I did not. Levi, what do you take me for? Some common escort? I promised you I would not succumb to him.”

Levi’s eyes soften and then, he suddenly smiles.

“He deserved that glob of spit on his face.”

“That he did.”

His eyes betray him. They tell you that the more days he spends in your company, the more he gets to know the girl behind the trained smile, the fonder he becomes of you.

A free-spirited, dazzling girl he will forever be doomed to watch from the sidelines but never have, never claim, never hold as his own.

Like a ray of sunlight, you will always escape his touch.

-

The carriage pulls to a halt by the military headquarters. You were admitted past the heavy steel gates, but not without your share of suspicious looks from the soldiers manning it. Only Levi’s presence seemed to ease their distrust somewhat.

As you step out of the carriage, you subtly look around. The yard of the headquarters is barren, even by Varsikovian standards. There are a few patches of grass here and there, but most of the space around the headquarters is gravel. A single, wide driveway leads from the gate to the base with a row of soldiers standing unnervingly still on each side of it.

There’s nothing in the grey, rectangular building that has any colour, aside from large flags of Varsiko that quietly flap on each side of it.

The heavy wooden doors open for you, and you’re led inside a very dull-looking hall. There are soldiers lined up all around the walls, standing guard with their hands resting on the handles of their swords. Their uniforms are similar to Levi’s. Uninviting grey and the fact that none of them wears a cape makes them appear even duller.

In the back of their jackets, they have a symbol that would have been strange to you half a year ago. It looks like the number three, with an extra horizontal line drawn under the line at the top. Now, you know it’s the Alchemical symbol for Iron. The symbol of Wing of Defence.

Wing of Offence, on the other hand, wears the Alchemical symbol for steel.

You’re led up a set of sturdy wooden stairs and down an empty corridor with nothing but stern-looking black and white portraits of Nimbus and Darius Zackly decorating the walls.

Levi walks quietly behind you as you’re escorted into a small, efficient dining hall. There’s a rather small wooden table in the middle, eight heavy chairs with no cushions and on the table, maids are setting up dinner. The walls are empty and there is no other furniture. The only specs of colour are the crimson-coloured carpet and curtains.

You’re given a simple copper plate and utensils and a rough clay mug. You look at the roasted rabbit, steamed peas and baked potatoes. A steaming, huge jug of gravy is set down with a basket of freshly baked bread and with that, dinner is served.

Darius Zackly doesn’t seem to live as luxuriously as the Czar and his family. Then again, your image of the Admiral isn’t someone who cares about material luxuries. He seems the kind who wants power and the rest of his life has to be efficient and trouble-free.

Levi stands behind your chair, a calming presence, as you wait for Darius Zackly to arrive.

He’s a few minutes late when the door finally opens and he walks in. Dressed in the standard grey uniform, his cape is not red but deep purple. There’s a collection of pins and badges on the front, and on the back of his cape is a symbol that represents the bident. The symbol of the undertaker. Of power.

Darius Zackly looks to be in his late sixties, with thick white hair, plentiful yet neatly trimmed moustache and beard and eyes that are exceptionally void of life.

He sits down across from you without a word. Without even glancing your way over his glasses, he starts piling food on his plate like you’re not even there. He takes three potatoes, a spoonful of peas, some meat and finishes by pouring a generous amount of gravy on top of everything.

You watch him work, assuming he’ll address you once he’s started dining, but he doesn’t. He starts shovelling food in his mouth with efficient speed in complete silence. You glance behind you at Levi.

The maids have excused themselves and there are no soldiers other than Levi in the room. It’s just you and him.

Levi gestures for you to speak. You clear your throat and stand up to curtsey.

“Admiral Zackly. It is wonderful to meet you, sir, my name is-”

“I know what your name is, I read the letter you sent me. There’s no need for unnecessary pleasantries,” Darius Zackly informs you without looking up from his plate. “You asked me to meet you, and I’m here. Eat if you’re hungry and state your business. You have until I’m done eating, then I must attend to more pressing issues.”

You look at the alarming rate with which he eats and hurry to speak up. You’re still not sure what Zeke meant with you having something to offer to this man, but you’ll have to wing it as you go. You assemble a small portion of food on your plate and start eating as you talk, just so you feel less awkward about sitting there.

“I’m sure you have heard that I’m to attend the negotiations, sir-”

“If you’re sure, there’s no need to repeat it,” he interrupts you. He doesn’t seem angry or annoyed. He’s very matter of fact about everything he says.

“The most pressing issue I will be pushing at the negotiations is the issue of Novarynian-Varsikovians and their slavery.”

“I see.”

He hardly sounds interested. He pauses eating just to pour some more gravy on his meat and then resumes eating without looking at you. You’re a bit at a loss. You heard he was an eccentric, but he’s proving to be someone whose intrigue is firmly out of reach under most circumstances.

“I heard it is you who insisted on keeping them enslaved.”

“Yes.”

He admits it without an ounce of shame. He’s not concerned about your opinion whatsoever.

“Why?”

“Because having free labour saves us money.”

“Sir, it is unethical and horrid to subject human beings to such conditions-”

“If I cared about such issues, I would not have insisted on keeping them there,” he points out nonchalantly as he pauses to wipe some gravy from his moustache. He then pours more on his meat.

“Sir, I’m willing to bargain with you. Whether it is money or favours, I’m willing to negotiate.”

“You have nothing to offer me that I would even pause to look at twice, let alone trade for four profitable factories that significantly boost our resource output.”

You know. Yet, Zeke said there’s something you can offer. Admiral Zackly is not interested in you whatsoever. You don’t have money or Novarynian secrets to offer him. The most personable thing about this man is that he seems to like gravy.

“Then, what do you want, sir?”

He still hasn’t as much as graced you with a glance. To him, you’re nothing.

“What I want is power, advantages to exploit in any future warfare and to a lesser degree, information about hostile nations. You can offer me none of those things.”

“I am Novarynian, I’m sure I can tell you something-”

“Before we approved of the marriage, our spies compiled an exhaustive file on you and assessed your threat level to this country. You’re Cora Reader, the 13th Princess of the Kingdom of Novaryn. Eighteen years old. Unwanted by your father and siblings, unfavoured by the court, you led a very sheltered and insignificant life. Most of your days were spent picking flowers with your mother and discussing womanly affairs with her and your maids. You received minimal education. The only point of interest was your warm relationship to the Crown Prince of Novaryn. I know for a fact that you possess no knowledge that we care to hear or don’t already know.”

“But I can spy for you,” you find yourself promising in your desperation. “I can fish information from my brother-”

“Your brother is not dumb enough to entrust any information to you. Furthermore, you would be a huge liability, my informants from the castle have relayed to me that not only have you proved to be extraordinarily good at bluffing, but you’re also becoming increasingly involved in politics and motivated to advance your country’s agenda. Like you’re doing right now. You would double-cross me at your earliest convenience.”

He finishes eating and wipes his mouth. You feel a surge of panic take over you as he stands up. This might be your last chance to strike a deal with him.

What does he want? What could you offer him?

Think, you tell yourself as he walks towards the door. Think.

You can’t give him power or advantages. The information you have isn’t valuable to him. He doesn’t trust you enough to spy for him.

Yet, he entertained you briefly. He engaged in a lengthy monologue when you tried to offer him information. That means you must have gotten closer to getting his intrigue.

“Wait!” you call out after him. He pauses by the door and turns. For the first time, his eyes land on you and he takes a good look at you.

“You’re a pretty young princess. Enjoy the luxury our tax money provides you with. Enjoy whatever it is that young women like to do. You have nothing to offer me, and the little value you have is too risky for me to trust to prove advantageous. The fact that you got this far proves that you’re not as dumb as we initially took you for, but you’re at the end of your road. You overestimated yourself. You’re out of your depth. Goodbye.”

_“The little value you have is too risky for me to trust to prove advantageous.”_

_“It’s something your hound has but can’t give to you. Those who have it wish they didn’t, those who give them wish they didn’t have to.”_

Your eyes widen, your blood stills in your body as you suddenly understand what Zeke meant. Whatever hesitation you feel is wiped over by your panic as you realise Admiral Zackly is almost out of the door.

“Chip me.”

You hear Levi draw in a sharp breath behind you.

Your words make Admiral Zackly pause. He contemplates for a second. Then, he slowly comes back in and closes the door after himself.

His eyes meet yours, and finally, he looks interested in your existence.

“What did you just say?”

You swallow as you meet his oppressive eyes. You stand up, ignoring Levi’s distressed gaze following your every movement. You walk up to Admiral Zackly and straighten your back, feigning confidence.

“If you do not trust me to be a reliable spy, then insert a loyalty chip in me. Make it so I cannot betray you.”

Admiral Zackly thinks it over for a few more seconds. Then, he pushes his glasses up his nose and hums, sounding almost impressed.

“Well, if you wanted my attention, girl, you’ve now got it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well then. I know it's been a few weeks. I've been busy with school but I finally had some time to write this week :)
> 
> Reader is officially done with everyone's shit it seems. Sassing out his father and Eren, spitting in Zeke's face and going all in with Admiral Zackly to get her way. She's getting bolder, but whether that will prove advantageous or backfire remains to be seen. The chip deal is definitely risky.
> 
> I love comments, they give me strength and motivation. It's the only form of compensation that I get or want for my writing, so if you have a spare moment, please consider letting me know what you thought of this chapter! ^^
> 
> Until next time~!


	13. His Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check the rating. It's there for a reason.

You’re in trouble, you realise as the full gravity of your suggestion dawns on you. Yet you don’t stand down.

Your eyes are locked with Admiral Zackly’s. Behind you, you can hear Levi’s rapid breathing.

“What you just said,” Admiral Zackly says. “Did you truly mean it? You would toss away your freedom just to secure a handful of slaves? Or is it all talk to stall for time? I hate having my time wasted. If you say yes, we sign a contract right away.”

“So, you would trade those factories for my freedom?”

“Yes. That is the most advantageous thing to do. Which will it be?” He has zero interest in maintaining this standstill and his eyes shine with impatience as you falter.

You swallow. You can feel Levi’s eyes boring into yours, quietly telling you to drop it right now.

“It is a deal.”

“No.”

You turn your head to see Levi has walked up to you. His eyes are dark and openly hostile as he looks at Admiral Zackly.

“You can’t chip a monarch. The law has stated the chips are only for slaves and the augmented.”

“Captain Levi,” Darius Zackly greets him curtly. “An exception can be made in the case of national security. There’s no need for you to teach the laws of my own country to me, Captain.”

He extends his hand towards you.

“We have a deal, girl.”

You feel a shudder of cold. You know a prolonged hesitation will make you look like someone whose bark is worse than her bite, so before you can think it through, you hurry to take his hand.

“Excellent. I will mail you a contract and schedule your chip to be inserted after your father’s departure.”

“You mean, I can attend the negotiations without it?” you ask, just a little relieved by the notion. Admiral Zackly grabs your chin. He ignores the way Levi lets out a low growl and gives your face an evaluating look.

“The chip will change your behaviour in unforeseen ways. I assume your father is smart enough to catch onto it if we do it while he’s present. He doesn’t know about the chip but he should notice you acting out of place. The chips sometimes make you act twitchy for a few weeks after insertion as you rewire your nervous system.”

Your father has never met you, so you assume he wouldn’t notice. But you’re not going to point that out to someone like Admiral Zackly, so you merely nod.

“Needless to say, you’re not to tell anyone about this. I’ll quietly inform the Czar after the fact.”

“I understand.”

“Alright. Expect the contract to be mailed to you by midday tomorrow. Good day.”

With that, Admiral Zackly marches out of the room as briskly as he walked in, not sparing you and the loss of your free will a second glance as he has more pressing issues to attend to.

A man who’s capable of operating those factories is not going to as much as offer an extra blink when he exploits the desperation of another human being.

The war, Varsiko, the slaves, your humanity, they’re all resources to him. Business.

The door closes after him with a heavy clack, leaving you and Levi to deal with the aftermath. You swallow thickly and turn to look at your guard.

For the first time, he’s unable to even meet your eyes. You see the anguish in his eyes. The pain he’s trying to keep at bay by gritting his teeth together.

It hurts him. It physically hurts him that you’re placing so little value on your own freedom when you’ve seen what losing his meant to Levi.

“Let’s go,” he finally grunts, his nails burying into the palms of his hands as he balls them into fists. He looks like he’s about to lose it. He just needs a little push and the water boils over.

You nod and turn. As the maids bustle back in and start cleaning up the dinner, you quietly excuse yourselves and walk back down the barren corridors to the carriage.

As if in a dream, you feel light and airy as you climb in. Levi sits across from you, his eyes still avoiding yours in an attempt to protect. Himself or you, you doubt even he knows.

You look out of the window, of the industrialised brick houses, the sky that’s full of smoke from the factories, inside which your people are slowly killing themselves and their children.

You wish Novaryn had never discovered Alchemy. You wish you were not the 13th princess of Novaryn, that you would jolt awake in the Genesia Castle, back home, and thank your luck that you were spared from the fate of travelling to Varsiko.

Yet your eyes flicker to Levi and you feel the pining. The little flame that should, by all means, be feeble and already extinguished. Yet here it is still, holding on to the hopes of a happy ending.

Of loving this man and it all turning out alright.

“Levi-”

“Don’t speak to me.”

You flinch at the tone of his voice. He sounds like he’s been dumped in ice water, struggling to stay afloat as his body freezes and stiffens, and everything slips away.

You look at him hopelessly. You wonder if you’ve blown it. If after this, Levi is done with you since you’ve disregarded his pain to chase an unattainable dream of progress and resolution.

Somewhere deep down, you know. You know freeing those slaves won’t end the suffering. They’ll just ship more. Maybe not from Novaryn, but from Nambala or Jaldor or any other of their colonies. Do their lives weigh any less than those of Novarynians?

You know, yet you can’t talk yourself out of this. With this, you matter. With this, you made a difference. And that feeling, that tiny little spec of validation and importance, has driven you to give away something you can never get back.

The carriage pulls to a halt in front of the Rekanon Castle. Levi opens the door and climbs out without a word. You follow him. The buzz of life around you, around the castle, is all muffled. Maids, soldiers, alchemists and nobles, they all walk past you, blissfully unaware of your turmoil.

Suddenly, you’re afraid. You’re scared of what Levi will say once you’re alone.

The familiar sight of your recently cleaned quarters offers little solace to you now. Levi’s presence looms behind you like a bad omen as you walk inside. You pause and then reach out to a passing maid.

“Please tell Maid Springer she may take the night off. I will be retiring to bed already as I’m quite tired.”

The young maid nods and walks off. You close the door and take a deep breath.

Then, you turn to Levi who’s standing by his usual post. Leaning against the wall beside the door, he’s still not looking at you.

“Levi,” you start but stop at that. You don’t know what to say. Levi takes a deep breath and then, finally, he forces his eyes to meet yours.

“Call this off.”

“No.”

The protest leaves your lips instantly. You look into his tortured eyes, the pain and frustration, anger and heartbreak, all moulded into a single, dangerous, explosive mindset.

“Call. It. Off.”

“No.”

Suddenly, Levi snaps to life. He crosses the room with lightning speed, face twisted in anguish, his hands extend you with the desire to touch, to dominate and handle until you see things his way. You refuse to cower. Standing still, you don’t attempt to move away, and his hands stop an inch from your shoulders.

Levi pauses. He forces himself to take a deep breath and calm down before he does something he’ll regret.

“Do you have any idea what you’re trying to sign up for?”

“I do.”

“You don’t!” Levi hisses, and he looks dangerous again. His hand jolts towards you and you feel his bruising fingertips bury into your shoulder.

“Do you really think you know what you’re doing? Do you have any idea how much it hurts to have a metal chip embedded into your organs? To have it wired to your spine? To have your stomach ripped open just to be sewn back together?”

His hand tightens on your shoulder. It hurts. Yet, you know he’s not doing it on purpose. He’s a soldier with superhuman strength, he simply doesn’t know his own strength in relation to yours.

“I’m not afraid of pain, Levi,” you tell him. “You are hurting me.”

“You should be. This is nothing compared to the pain you’ll feel if you let yourself get chipped,” Levi growls. He roughly shoves you into the wall, fully intent on scaring you out of this plan.

“I will break your fingers and wrists if I have to in order to keep you from signing that contract,” he threatens. His eyes are dark, his pupils dilated. He looks like a feral beast that’s been backed into a corner, no longer dictated by common sense. These are his most primitive instincts, telling him to do whatever it takes to keep you from this fate.

You hear some maids walk by your room. Talking loudly and giggling, they’re unaware of what’s going on inside. You could call them for help and have Levi removed, but you don’t.

Instead, you gently take his hand off your shoulder. You pull his fingers over your delicate wrist and meet his eyes.

“Then do it. I told you, I’m not afraid of pain, Levi.”

For a second, he looks like he’s going to do it as his jaws clench together in anger. Then, just as suddenly, he shoves your hand away. Fast, like it’s burning him.

“Don’t tempt me,” he hisses.

“I’m not tempting you. You are not capable of hurting me,” you tell him, convinced of your words.

“You have no idea what I’m capable of,” Levi tells you through his teeth. “The things I’ve done to other people, you don’t know half of it. I could kill you right now.”

Daring, you grab his hand again. This time, you shove it to your neck.

“Then stop talking and do it,” you tell him. Dare him. He glares at you, his fingers loose around your throat. The silence is heavy and lingering between you.

“You cannot hurt me, Levi,” you tell him, and your eyes turn loving and gentle. Vulnerable. His eyes fill with something. You see the deep pain and loneliness and when he opens his mouth, his voice is thin and breathy.

“Then why are you hurting me?” he asks. He sounds heartbroken and so, so tired. “Why do you keep torturing me so, little miss?”

You feel the guilt then. It settles in your stomach and starts gnawing away at you. But you can’t yield to him. There’s so much at stake. What are the feelings of yourself and Levi compared to the freedom of so many people?

“I’m sorry, Levi,” you whisper. You gently move his hand from your neck to your cheek and nuzzle your face against it. You don’t have the energy to pretend tonight. Neither does Levi, it seems. He cups your cheek and pulls you in. Your head plops against his chest and immediately, you bury into the warmth and safety of it.

“Don’t do this,” Levi tries again, his voice heavy.

“I have to,” you whisper.

“Why?”

You sniffle. A few tears escape your eyes, immediately caught by Levi’s cape.

“Because I do not know what else to do.”

You grasp the fabric and press against him. Levi swallows thickly. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, clearly preparing himself for a storm.

“Maybe… Maybe you should team up with Zeke Yeager after all.”

Immediately, your sorrow turns to scorching fury. You shove him away, your face twisted in anger. You seethe at him.

“How dare you suggest that now?” you tell him. “You want me to go to the _czarevich_ and agree to be his little plaything? After making me promise I would not, after… After-”

After making you believe you were worth more than that.

Levi’s eyes are pained again, but there’s a determination to his expression that wasn’t there before.

“It’s still better than getting chipped,” he tries to explain, but you’re not listening.

“It would not be better. You think a man like the czarevich will let me roam free once I have given myself to him?”

“But at least you would have your free will. At least you could break free eventually. You allow Darius Zackly to put a chip in you, you will never be free.”

“What he wants from me is much more manageable than what the czarevich does. He seems like a rational man-”

“He will exploit that chip to its fullest potential,” Levi tells you mercilessly. “He will use you in every way he wants, he will suckle you dry until you’re empty and begging for death.”

“You are faring just fine with the chip-”

“I’m not, and to whatever extent I am, it’s all thanks to the Czar not being completely rotten.”

“So, now you want me to spread my legs to the czarevich all of a sudden!”

“I don’t _want_ you to,” Levi hisses, his eyes asking how you dare even suggest such a thing. “But if these are the options, I’d rather-”

“This is not about you, Levi. This is my decision,” you remind him. Levi closes his eyes and for a second he looks angry again, ready to pummel his fist through your wall.

“Cora,” he says, and his voice is thin. “You do not want this. You don’t. You will regret this if you do it. Don’t… Don’t make the same mistake I did.”

His eyes are still closed. He’s afraid of himself and his emotions, he’s trying his hardest to keep them from you, but when you move in as if enchanted and wrap your arms around him, he reluctantly buries his face in your hair like your scent is the only thing keeping him together anymore.

At least, you still smell like his little miss.

“What do I have to do to make you change your mind?” he asks.

“You cannot change my mind, Levi,” you say. “I have made my choice.”

“Cora, I’m begging you,” he breathes. “I will get down on my knees and beg if I have to, just don’t do this. Please.”

“Do not beg me, Levi,” you sigh and pull back to cup his jaw. You look at him, sad and broken but also determined. You will not give in with this. “No amount of begging will change things.”

Levi looks lost then. During his days as a military Captain, an augmented human weapon, he could fix things. He could act. He could charge into situations head-first and brute force his way through.

Now that the option has been robbed from him, as he couldn’t bear to hurt you, he doesn’t know what to do. His eyes glisten just the tiniest bit as his hand sinks into your hair.

“I will do anything,” he murmurs.

“Why?” you whisper. He shakes his head, ashamed of what he’s about to confess.

“No man wants to see the woman he loves hand her life away.”

You swallow. Your heart stops for a precious second and then starts thundering in your chest. You blink back a stray tear and your eyes turn soft and apologetic.

“No princess wants to see her people suffer like they are in that factory. And between giving myself to someone like Zeke Yeager or someone like Darius Zackly, I pick the latter.”

“The suffering you could cause to Novaryn in the hands of Darius Zackly is immeasurable.”

“At the end of the day, I’m just a princess,” you tell Levi. “And I will warn Novaryn. I know you hate my country, but I will need your help. I will write a letter telling my brother about the deal I have made. Once the slaves have been secured, I will entrust that letter to you. If you truly love me, you will send that letter to my brother after I have been chipped and not let my sacrifice ruin everything.”

Levi turns angry for just a second, but he already knows his anger serves no purpose. There’s no changing your mind.

Thus, he merely nods. A lifeless nod full of stifled emotions.

“Thank you.”

You smile and pull him close. Your foreheads press together, your noses bump gently against each other. You close your eyes and try to forget.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry, Levi. If I was a proper princess…” A proper princess with power and influence would not have to resort to this.

“You are a proper princess, Cora. The best your kingdom could ever have asked for.”

“Tell me you love me again.”

“It would be better for everyone if I didn’t.”

You shake your head.

“Tomorrow, I will sign that contract when it arrives. But until then, until dawn…”

Until then, you’ll still be the Cora he knows and loves. Come tomorrow, things will change and the knowledge of what you’ve done will be weighing you down.

This might be your last chance to be together, as Cora and Levi.

He knows it too. He can’t keep his eyes from greedily flickering to your parted lips. Twice before has he taken them, and the thought now haunts his mind. Will he have you, just for the night? Will he take you and soothe your ache, risking the chance that losing you once he’s had you could ruin him forever?

He takes a deep breath. Then, he slowly moves away. His touch lingers on you as he pulls his hands back. He turns away desperately trying to tug on that comfortable mask of stoic indifference.

Only, tonight it’s too hard.

You hang your head as he walks back towards his door. He’s not going to take you, and you respect that. But there’s something you need to tell him. Before you become unable to.

“I love you, Levi,” you utter. “More than I have ever loved anything in my life. I just want you to know that before I-”

You’re cut off as the last strand of control Levi has over himself snaps, and he’s turned back. In an instant, he’s stridden back to you, grabbed your waist and yanked you in for a deep kiss.

Immediately, you moan. Your hands place on his shoulders, clutching his biceps as he slips a hand in your hair, pulls you close and kisses you with desperation and intent, messing up your tight bun in the process. You feel locks of your hair falling down to your shoulders until he gives up and just pulls off the string holding your hair up.

You surrender immediately. With a longing whimper, you kiss him back. You lap up his desperation like it’s honey. You stop caring about anything. Consequences, responsibilities. Tomorrow. All that matters is Levi and how close he is to you.

Your hand slides from his shoulder to his jaw. You tilt your head, your mouth worshipping his as you nip along his lower lip.

He scoops you up bridal style and carries you to bed. With a soft thump, you fall on the cushions. He remains standing, his eyes darkening by the second as he looks at you. Your tousled hair all over the silk-covered blanket. The way the hem of your grey dress has risen up to your knees.

He grabs your leg. He takes off your heel and presses a kiss on your calf, his eyes never leaving yours. The possessive, yearning gaze pins you down. It’s as if you can feel his hands on you, pressing you into the cushions and keeping you still under his treatment. Your chest heaves with large movements, your eyes are intent on his and your face is flushed.

He moves to your other leg, takes off the heels and chucks them aside. He takes his time nuzzling his face up your calf. Your eyes widen at the sheer eroticism of it all as you feel the trail his breaths leave on your legs.

“Levi,” you breathe a plea whose purpose is muddled and unclear. Yet, you find your legs itching open the higher up he moves.

You have a fleeting thought, wondering if Levi will mouth his way up to the source of your arousal. You can feel the slickness, pooling against the ironed cotton of your underpants.

You don’t know it, but Levi can smell it, the thick and tempting indecency and the closer he gets to your crotch, the more he feels the need to just bury his face in your folds and lick you until there’s nothing left.

Instead, he pulls himself back at the last moment and mounts you. Your eyes meet, frantic and stormy. He grabs your hair in his hand and gently yanks your head back. With a gasp, you offer your throat to him, and when you feel his questing lips, you moan with no restraints.

“Mark me,” you beg.

He knows it’s a bad idea, yet his lips latch onto your pulse point with dizzying speed. He marks your neck with his lips and teeth and then nibbles his way down, to your concealed cleavage.

You want this dress off you. The oppressive grey and red, the active reminder of your role and place. You pull your gloves off and throw them on the floor. Then, you reach for the clasp of Levi’s cape.

It falls off him with a quiet shuffle.

You hear the sound of two heavy boots hitting the floor as Levi kicks his shoes off. Then, he pulls the sleeves of your dress down, as far as they go. He presses his face into your breasts, inhales the scent deeply and lets out an almost animalistic sound.

When you hear the sound of fabric tearing as Levi quite literally rips your expensive dress off you, you have the decency to feel a pang of sympathy for Maid Springer who’ll have to replace it. That, however, doesn’t stop you from letting out an exhilarated moan.

Your corset is torn in two next like it’s but a piece of paper. Then, Levi grabs your freed breasts, presses them together and indulges in them.

Underneath him, you quickly kick the remainders of your dress and corset off the bed. Your heart is pounding wildly in your chest, excited yet also nervous. It’s the first time you bare your body for the eyes of someone other than your mother or maids.

You feel the heat of his skin as his lips worship your breasts. He presses fully against the mounds, his tongue making languid circles around your nipples.

It feels good, his mouth is wet and intimate and domineering, almost frantic as he darts from breast to breast, as if afraid he’d be separated from you prematurely and he must get his fill while he still has the chance.

You clutch his arms, worship the muscles strong enough to break you in a blink of an eye. You feel the slickness in your groin. There’s something undeniably impatient and anticipatory in the way you rub your legs together, desperate for friction.

Levi parts with your breasts, but only to toss off the grey jacket of his uniform. He pulls his shirt over his head and you see his muscles, toned and tight.

With wonder and lust, you sit up and reach a hand to touch him. You splay your fingers over his stomach, the smooth texture of his skin, the finely defined muscles underneath. You wonder how much of what you’re touching is artificial; augmented metals that give him his strength in exchange for his freedom.

You wonder where in there lays the chip, etched into his organs for all eternity, impossible to remove and revoke. You surge in, you place your lips on his stomach and start to revere his skin, underneath which is the source of his superiority but also, his downfall.

You kiss up his stomach to his chest, to his neck and jaw, until you meet his lips. Your mouths crash again, this time wet and sloppy. His tongue pushes into your mouth, stealing your breath.

You have no doubt Levi has done this before. A handsome military captain past his earliest years, he’s bound to have embraced his fair share of women.

You try not to get too self-conscious about it, but you have a fleeting thought, wondering if Levi ever treated them with such vigour, ever had the same smouldering gaze he now does as he pushes you back down on your back and kisses down between your breasts to your navel.

His fingers hook under your underpants and he starts pulling them down. Your eyes are wide, your mind still dizzy and lungs gasping for breath as you allow him to disrobe you completely.

As if on instinct, your knees inch closer together to conceal what lays between your legs, but he’s not about to allow that to happen. He grabs your thighs and presses them apart.

Your sex is glistening a little, clearly aroused and aching to be touched. You feel your face flush deeper at the way his eyes take in the shameless sight. Suddenly, you feel even more self-conscious.

“If- If it is dirty, I can-”

“Shh,” Levi hushes you lovingly. “There’s nothing dirty about you, little miss. If anything, your scent is driving me crazy.”

You gasp a little at his words, and before you register what’s happening, he’s moved down. His hands keeping your legs open for him with a gentle iron grip, you feel his breath against your sex. He pauses for a split second.

Your breath gets stuck in your throat in nervous anticipation. Then, you feel something firm and slick lap up your sex, and the air immediately escapes your mouth with a helpless moan.

You hear Levi release a loud groan as he finally tastes the source of the scent that has been steadily driving him insane for the last few weeks. Then, you feel his tongue start moving. Purposeful, impatient, demanding, he presses between your legs and makes you writhe.

The sensation is new and heavenly. You feel your breath cage in your chest every time he touches the sensitive nub at the top, just to release a devoted moan every time he moves away to gather more of your slickness from the depths of your slit.

You feel his fingers, spreading your folds apart to make his quest of driving you to the brink of ecstasy easier. He picks up speed, letting out only the quietest grunts against your sex. You feel the way he relishes in your taste and smell, the possessiveness of his touch as he wipes your mind clean of anything but his mouth.

“Levi,” you breathe shakily as you feel something new, a shudder of tension runs through you, warning you of something impending. “Levi, I’m… I feel strange.”

“It’s okay, little miss,” Levi replies, and the soothing calmness of his voice makes you relax. “Let it go. Come undone for me.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, your tongue comes out to quickly moisten your parted lips as Levi keeps steadily disarming your psyche, muddling your thoughts, coaxing out that jittery feeling that makes your legs shake and squeeze Levi’s head between them. You don’t register it, but your legs instinctively press him tighter against you.

He doesn’t complain, he merely groans and moves his tongue faster, concentrating solely on your clitoris on his relentless pursuit of your pleasure.

You gasp loudly, your hand surges down to fist his hair as you throw your head back. Your mouth opens on a noiseless scream, your mind goes white as you feel the most wonderful of sensations, a hot flame of pleasure shooting through your body, up your spine to your brain, releasing a firework of sweet endorphins that deems all your worries trivial.

You roll your hips into Levi’s mouth in a desperate, mindless attempt to chase the feeling, to keep it going as long as possible.

When the sensation shifts from stimulating to overbearing, you finally still your hips. You open your eyes, release a breath you realise you were holding and slowly unhook your legs from around Levi’s head.

“Oh, Levi. That was wonderful,” you breathe, eyes glossy and legs still shaking. Levi presses a kiss on your inner thigh. He climbs up to face you. You can see his mouth glistening a little with your juices, and you wipe it clean with your hand before pulling him in for a kiss.

You can taste a hint of the tanginess of your arousal, but you don’t let it deter you. You move a purposeful hand down to open his belt, set on doing _something_ to return the favour.

He allows you to pull his pants down. He shrugs the rest of his clothes off with an air of nonchalance, and when your hand trails down the patch of hair that connects his navel to his pubic hair, you can’t help the shudder of excitement.

When you find his length, it’s rock hard. It’s the first time you’ve touched one, and when you pull away from the kiss, you can’t help the curious downward glance.

You’ve seen them in literature, but it’s nothing like the real thing. He’s unexpectedly thick and the girth of his cock makes you a little nervous.

Will it fit inside you?

Yet, the thought doesn’t carve your enthusiasm. If anything, the thought of feeling him stretch you and claim you, of him holding you and kissing you through the pain as you endure the initial sting that allows you to become one, it oddly excites you.

Your hand is a little clumsy at first, but eventually, you understand what to do. You circle your fingers around the base and move your hand upwards, towards the tip. Levi inhales sharply, his hand slipping into your hair to pull you in for another kiss.

“Careful,” he warns against your mouth, his body tensing each time you rub the loose skin at the top of his shaft over the tip of his cock. You release a small giggle against him.

“Why? Am I driving you insane?” you ask playfully, gaining confidence upon his reaction.

“Yes,” he admits immediately with a quiet breath. Your eyes soften, and you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. You manoeuvre you until Levi’s lying on top of you, his hips securely between your legs.

He breaks the kiss to meet your eyes. He looks serious. Almost grim.

“Are you sure? You’re a princess. To let a lowly guard like me mount you-“

“Levi,” you interrupt him firmly. “When we are like this, there is no princess and guard. There is only you and me, two people who need each other. I love you. My heart is already yours. I want you to have my body as well.”

Even if it’s only for tonight.

Levi nods, unable to stop himself now.

He lines up his length. If he’s nervous, he doesn’t show it. Your heart is going crazy in your chest. You know this is something that can’t be taken back. Losing your virtue to Levi, instead of your fiancé, is an outrageous deed.

Should anyone ever find out, the repercussions would be immeasurable. To lay unmarried is an offence in the eyes of the Creator, so much so that you can shed every hope you have at ascending the Stairs of Salvation. Lie with someone augmented, and you will forever lose your chance of at least being allowed a spot in the eternal slumber of Limbo. Your soul will be hurled down the Well of Damnation, forever lost and tortured in the anguish that is the barren desert of the Underworld.

Yet as if bewitched, you allow it to happen. For this man, you’ll gladly give up your soul.

With open eyes, you turn your back on your Creator as Levi pushes in. You feel his girth stretch and break the thin tissue protecting your virtue.

You were half expecting to feel something. For your Creator to strike you down for defiling his name. For the Earth to shake or glasses to break.

There’s none of that. Just the gentle puffs of Levi’s breath against your lips as he looks at you worriedly, his hand cupping your cheek.

There’s a sting of pain that makes you wince, but it’s far from the worst pain you’ve ever felt. Despite that, Levi latches onto it instantly.

“Breathe. Do you want me to pull out?” he asks. You shake your head.

“I will be fine. Stay there,” you reply. You press an affectionate kiss on his lips and nuzzle against his forehead. In a moment, the pain subsides.

“I’m alright. You can move.”

He takes your hand and gently presses it down next to your head. Your fingers link together as he pulls back slowly and pushes back in, groaning a little at the warmth of your walls, squeezing him in.

Your breathing is a little irregular, you’re trembling just a little bit as you feel the intimacy of having another person inside you. The vulnerability you feel is a little unnerving, yet it’s also wonderful and beautiful because you trust Levi.

Immediately, you’re glad you will not be feeling this for the first time with Eren. Let alone Zeke.

Your eyes, lidded and aroused, fill with gratitude.

“I love you,” you breathe. “I love you so.”

He kisses you and moves a little faster. One hand holding yours down next to your head, he presses his forearm on the other side, in charge but gentle. Caging you in place, warm and safe.

You feel his cock rub against your walls, you feel the tip push into the deepest parts of your body with a pace that’s growing more and more urgent. You moan, your lips collide again and when Levi snaps his hips down a little more forcefully, you break the kiss to toss your hair back and wail a little.

Not in pain but in exhilaration.

“Do that again,” you plead, and he’s on it. He rams into you a little harder. You slip a hand around him and feel his toned back. His muscles are tense and firm as he takes you, and you can’t resist the urge to rake your nails down the bumps of his spine.

He likes it. Immediately, he groans and goes even faster, the sudden sprinkle of feistiness making him more aroused.

You feel him plunge deeper, filling you up with such intensity that your breath gets knocked right out of your lungs.

You’re glad. You may lose your freedom tomorrow, but at least you will not have to live in a world where you don’t know what it feels like to be close to someone you love.

That thought, along with the unhinging lust in Levi’s eyes, is what brings you to your climax. Your muscles tense around him, a whimper escapes your lips, and you unravel.

Levi hisses at the sudden tightness. He drives into your heat a few times, but the look of absolute surrender and the way your body shakes underneath him is all he needs to finally come.

He has the coherency to pull out at the last second, and his seed lands on your thighs and lower stomach.

You feel the warm splatters, and after they stop, a tense, charged silence falls between you as you pause to catch your breaths.

Now what?

Levi grabs a handkerchief from your bedside table and uses it to clean your body.

You lay completely still, your eyes following his every movement, and when he tosses the cloth on the bedside table, he seems to become aware of his position again.

Your guard. A chipped and augmented soldier. A leashed hound.

With that realisation, he makes a move for his clothes, but you stop him. Desperate, you grab his forearm and search his eyes with your pleading ones.

Not tonight. _Please_, not tonight.

He contemplates with a pensive frown, and finally, his shoulders slump in resignation. He buries under the covers with you and allows you to settle against his broad chest.

You feel his arm loop around your shoulders, and you instantly feel safe. You place a hand over his heart, snuggle into his side and close your eyes.

“Thank you, Levi. For giving me a memory to cherish,” you breathe, completely languid and at peace with your situation.

You have this, so you will be fine. You have loved, and embraced, and touched. It’s more than you were ever raised to wish for.

“Don’t thank me,” Levi sighs with a weighty tone. “Not for ruining you.”

“No,” you breathe a loving protest. Your eyes closed still, you smile. “You saved me.”

Without Levi, you wouldn’t have made it in this castle. Without Levi, you would have sunk.

With that, you drift off. Your breathing evens and you look peaceful and content. Levi watches you sleep, and he no longer holds back the anguish from his eyes. The dread of dawn.

During the quiet hours of the night, he makes up his mind. Subtly, he untangles himself from your pining hold and pulls his clothes back on. He skulks to the door and out of it. In the corridor, he grabs the first soldier he sees.

“Stand guard. I need to attend to something. Go in, and I’ll beat the shit out of you. Harm a hair on her head, and I’ll kill you and everyone you've ever cared about,” he orders the young, nervous-looking soldier, who hurries to nod and salute.

Levi slips away into the darkness of the nightly corridors, and you don’t stir as he returns one and a half hours later.

In the morning, you wake up to witness him standing by his usual spot, a closed-off look on his face. As Maid Springer arrives to make you presentable for breakfast, she gives the tattered dress on the floor a look. She side-eyes you but when she sees the lovesick way you look at Levi, she knows to stay silent.

When you leave to have breakfast, she moves to make your bed and sees the splotch of blood on your sheets that you were completely oblivious to.

“Oh, child,” she sighs, eyes full of empathy. “You foolish young thing.”

She stuffs the dress, the sheets and the handkerchief on the bedside table into a large sack and takes them out for burning, destroying the evidence of your betrayal and Levi’s treason.

You return from breakfast to see an envelope, delivered to your desk in your absence.

You grab it. Open it. Sign it.

You hand your life away and cease to be you, and your tie to Levi severs with a violent slash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi it's me your favourite degenerate auntie who struggled immensely with not making the smut the way I usually write it, which is trashy and raunchy and really effing explicit. Because this is high fantasy and high fantasy smut is supposed to be more tasteful and exquisite. I'm not sure if I succeeded but I tried my best! ^^;
> 
> This chapter was an experience for sure. I think it marks the longest single scene I've ever written without any cuts or skips. I'm not sure if it's sad, or hopeful, or sexy, or any of the things I tried to make it, but I think I'm happy with it. Maybe. I'm always hesitant to be content with my own work ^^;
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts on this. The slow burn has exploded into a fire, just to be stifled again. Are you happy? Sad? Satisfied that they finally did it? Wondering how the hell I'm going to deal with this mess of a situation? Excited for daddy Reader's arrival next chapter? Please let me know! I love any and all comments and make sure to always reply to show my appreciation. Comments are the best reward I could get for my writing, and a notification from AO3 is a foolproof way to make my day.
> 
> And btw, in case you're wondering - the update for 77G is halfway done and I'll get to it next!  
Love ya all~!


	14. A Father's Sin

”You look like you’re about to vomit,” Levi remarks as you stand in front of your vanity, hands perched on the polished food and eyes fixed ahead on your reflection.

You glace at him through the mirror, where he’s standing a few meters behind you. With a wry smile, you respond.

“Would you not if you were just about to meet your father after living your whole life without one?”

“Can’t say I relate.”

Well, Levi’s father is dead, claimed by the war that sent you here.

It’s been a few nights since you signed the contract and while Levi and you have a wordless agreement to not deepen the cuts by being intimate, there’s an unmistakable air of stifled affection between you.

He doesn’t touch you, but you can feel his quiet fondness and pain in the way he looks at you and talks to you. He sees no meaning in concealing it any longer and thus, when you’re alone like this you can taste his pining in the air.

Your own is fully evident as well, and even though you know better than to turn around, reel him in and allow your mouths to crash, the way your eyes soften whenever you look at him convey your feelings just enough.

Maid Springer has already left. She arrived earlier than usual to make you presentable, and she smartly picked a bronze-coloured dress accentuated with red seams. You look at the red ribbon tied around your neck, the crimson gloves and heels, and the mashup of such warm colours looks fairly unusual.

But you know why she picked it. Blue and bronze are the colours of Novaryn, red and grey are the colours of Varsiko. Picking bronze and red is meeting midway.

“I wonder what he is like,” you say. Based on his letter, you’re not expecting hugs or words of encouragement, but you hope he will at least be civil with you.

Historia and Zeke are to be wed in a week’s time and the castle is undergoing preparations. You see maids bustling by in the hallways with giant bouquets made of evergreen branches. You see large grey and red decorations being hauled towards the usually unused ballroom.

You see Historia’s smile turn stiffer and stiffer every day, and you’ve concluded it’s not out of the question for her to either crack under pressure or to target you again to take her anxiety out on something.

Despite her stressed demeanour, she’s been cordial with you as always, even if you haven’t had much time to visit her amidst preparing for the negotiations.

You walk the bustling hallways, growing more nervous with each step. As you descent the main staircase to the entrance hall, you see a collection of people waiting.

The royal family has pulled on their formal wear. Czar Yeager, Zeke and Eren are wearing grey silken uniforms, crowns on each of their heads and crimson red belts and scarves accentuating the dull colour scheme.

Historia and the Czarina are both wearing saffron red, full-length dresses with tiaras on their heads. Historia has a wide string of grey silken fabric around her narrow waist, tied into a ribbon over her lower back. The Czarina is wearing a ruby necklace, her dark grey gloves and shoes the only thing that’s not red.

They all look on edge aside from Zeke. His eyes land on you the second you step down the last two steps, and you notice how his eyes pause on the ribbon around your neck which is conveniently covering the last hints of Levi’s kiss mark from a few days back.

You glance down and see the small golden ribbon around his left wrist, signalling his approaching marriage. Historia’s ribbon is on her right hand, and you’ve noticed she has the habit of fiddling it whenever she’s absent-minded.

Without a doubt because she’s fretting her wedding. And you can’t blame her, however much you detest her for what she’s done to you.

“Remember,” Czar Yeager starts. “This is the King of Novaryn and Cora’s father. Be respectful and if you have nothing good to say, stay quiet.”

His eyes are primarily on his sons as he says that.

You glance at Levi, who’s taken his place in a row of soldiers ready to salute the guest. Mikasa is standing amongst them as well, as are Reiner Braun and Thomas Wagner.

If the rest of the royal family pick up on your nervousness, they don’t bring it up. Instead, you wait in silence until you hear the sound of approaching hooves.

As the vehicle pauses in front of the main entrance, two guards open the doors wide.

You watch the steel carriage as some Novarynian servant boys the King brought from Genesia Castle hurry forward, one taking down a large piece of luggage from the back, another opening the door.

Out steps a man. He straightens his back and takes a long look at the castle.

His hair is dark and only a little greying, still luscious despite his obvious age, which is evident in the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. His skin is clear and well cared for and his hand is delicate and well-groomed as he tips his hat back.

He’s wearing a blue silken suit, black leather boots and white gloves. You see he’s opted to not go full blue and bronze but only blue. You see the familiar deer necklace, hanging from his neck as a reminder of the Creator. The Creator you’ve forsaken by becoming betrothed to a worshipper of the black science, and later by lying with a person touched by it.

His eyes are clear, a little curious even, as he takes a look at the square castle, the barren yard and the red flags.

He walks up the small stairs to the main door, ignoring the way many maids and even soldiers have rushed to the windows to see the King of Novaryn himself. The whole castle seems to have stilled in time and the hall is dead quiet as he steps inside.

Czar Yeager takes the reins. He steps forward and gives him a formal bow.

“King Olaf Reader,” he greets and offers him his palm.

The King bows appropriately in return and presses his palm against the Czar’s in a curt greeting.

“Czar Grisha Yeager. It is a pleasure to finally meet in person. Let our relations be cordial and these negotiations fruitful.”

“Yes, yes,” the Czar hurries to agree with a pleasant smile. He turns to the rest and gestures towards them one by one.

“This is my wife Carla and my sons, Zeke and Eren.”

The Czarina curtseys with a proper smile. Zeke and Eren both offer a blank-faced bow.

The king bows down to both of them and then turns to you and Historia. He looks back and forth between you with only mild interest, and finally, his eyes settle on you.

“I take it you are my daughter?” he asks with cutting nonchalance.

Immediately, you can hear whispers behind you, starting rumours about how the King didn’t even know what his daughter looks like up until now.

If you said you weren’t hurt by him not even bothering to look for a portrait of you back home before coming here, or addressing your existence with such mild interest, you would be lying.

You keep it all off your face. Eyes cold and clear, you keep your nerves at bay and give him a small curtsey.

“Your grace,” you reply. He turns his attention to Historia, then.

“Czarevna,“ he greets. “Congratulations on your marriage. Please, accept this small gift.”

He gestures for one of the servant boys, who comes forward with a small, ribboned box. Historia takes it and curtseys with a stiff, alert smile.

“Thank you, your grace.”

It’s obvious it’s some kind of jewellery and while you know the King’s only doing it out of courtesy, you can’t help but feel a little blue. The only thing you’ve ever gotten from him was a curt letter of congratulations when you turned sixteen and became of age, and even that was after Sirius pestered him about it for weeks.

“I’m sure you’re tired from the long journey. Let us escort you to your room for rest. We’d be honoured if you joined us for dinner,” the Czar continues.

“Please,” the King says, and the second an escort comes forward, he leaves with his servants. He doesn’t look at you a second time. He does nothing to address you.

You don’t know what you were expecting, but you feel disappointed. When you turn to look at the rest, you see they’re all more or less baffled by his coldness towards you.

Even Eren looks like he feels bad for you.

“I’m sure he was just tired from the journey, dear, he’ll want to talk to you later,” the Czar tries to console you. You can feel the eyes of everyone in the room on you. You give the Czar your trained smile.

“Do not worry, your grace,” you simply tell him. “Excuse me, I have to be on my way.”

You curtsey and turn to leave. Levi falls in pace behind you as you walk up the main staircase and set course towards the West Wing.

Of course, he doesn’t care about you. He’s spent eighteen years not giving a toss about you or your mother, why would he start now?

As you walk inside, you trust Levi to close the door for you and instead, slump down on your bed with a deep sigh.

“Disappointed?”

“I ought not to be.”

Levi eyes you as you lie defeated on the bed. You weren’t expecting a warm hug or praising words, especially after your audacious letter to him, but you thought he’d at least be interested in your existence, if for nothing else than the fact that you dared to talk back to him.

But the complete nonchalance, it hurts you more than his anger or disapproval would’ve.

You’re not left to your own devices for long before you hear a knock. You sit up and gesture for Levi to open the door.

When you see the servant boy, dressed in blue and bronze, you immediately shoot to your feet. It’s one of the staff members your father brought with him.

“Message to her grace,” he tells Levi. Walking to the door with a frown, you take the small envelope. The boy bows and walks off.

As you rip the letter open, you instantly recognize your father’s ornate cursive.

_Wait half an hour, then come see me in the guest quarters. Do not draw attention to yourself._

_Regards,_

_His Supreme Excellency,_  
_Esteemed Ruler of the Western Star,_  
_257th Monarch of the-_

You close the letter without bothering to read the rest of his signature, which takes up most of the paper. You rip the letter in pieces and throw it in your fireplace, effectively destroying the evidence.

“He wants to meet me,” you tell Levi. He nods.

“He said to wait half an hour before leaving my room. I assume he wants to speak to me without arousing any attention from the Czar or others.”

“I see.”

“Can I trust your senses to pick up on it if we are being followed?”

“Yes.”

You nod and go sit down at your desk. You wonder what your father wants with you. If he wants to scold you or maybe get to know you before dinner.

You sit there deep in thought until it’s almost time to go. As you get up and pause in front of the mirror to double-check you’re presentable, you can’t help but pause your eyes on the red ribbon around your neck.

You feel Levi’s eyes, watching you through the mirror as you slowly open the knot and let the silken rope fall off your neck. You see the last reminders of the kiss mark Levi left on your throat, almost faded out completely.

“Do you think about it often?” you ask him as you place the tips of your fingers on the mark. It’s not tender anymore.

“Yes.” Levi’s voice is steady.

“How often?” you ask.

“So often I feel like I’m going crazy,” he admits quietly. Your eyes flutter down for a moment as you compose yourself. If you weren’t promised to someone else, you could be with Levi. Was your body not promised to Eren and your heart to Admiral Zackly, you could be with the man you love.

Not that it’s of any consolation now that the deed is done. You turn away from your vanity, the string in your hand. You walk to Levi and hand it to him.

“Could you put it back on?” you ask quietly. He takes the string and his thoughtful demeanour doesn’t completely conceal his anguish.

You turn. You feel his delicate fingers slip the silk around your throat. A small shudder goes down your spine as he touches the nape of your neck just a little bit as he ties the ribbon.

“Thank you,” you murmur. You want to cup his cheek and soothe his ache, but you keep yourself at bay and instead turn for the door.

Levi keeps his eyes and ears open as you walk down the corridors, but no one seems to note or care about your presence. You’re a part of the backdrop now.

As you arrive in the South Wing where the guest quarters are, two Novarynian guards are standing by the door.

“His grace asked for my presence,” you tell them. They nod and open the door, admitting you in. Levi moves to walk in after you, but he’s stopped by one of the guards.

“His grace wishes to see his daughter alone. We have been instructed to guide you off the guest quarter premises.”

“He wants no one to pick up on the fact that I’m here which they would if they saw you guarding out here,” you surmise. “It is alright, Levi. One of the guards here will escort me back. Please return to my quarters.”

Levi obviously hates letting you out of his sight, but he knows that Novarynians are the least likely people to stab you in the back. Thus, he merely nods stiffly and walks off.

You glance at his retreating back, take a deep breath and step into the guest quarters.

The first thing you notice is that the guest room is larger than yours. The golden bed is wide and made with crimson red sheets. A heavy mahogany desk sits in the corner, next to a fireplace, an oak vanity and a stocked bookshelf. The balcony points to the south and offers no sights besides the tall fence around the castle.

They had the decency to remove all alchemy-related paintings for your father’s visit and instead, the walls are covered with green and gold tapestries. You’ve read enough of Song of Steel to know these are the colours of the Old Monarchy before Varsiko became militarised and the Zacklys rose to power. After their ascend to the helm the nation, the colour scheme was changed from fertile green and mellow gold to red and grey, much harsher hues.

The king is standing by the large window, looking out to the empty yard. As you walk in and the door is closed behind you, he doesn’t move to greet you.

“Did you make sure you were not followed?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, then.”

He turns to look at you. Only, this time he does it properly, without nonchalance or indifference. His eyes move over your features, your red and bronze dress, your clear eyes and trained smile.

“I’m somewhat taken aback,” he hums and tilts his head upwards. “You resemble my mother remarkably much.”

His mother, your grandmother, whom you never had the pleasure to meet. As your father is rather old himself, your grandparents had already passed by the time you were born.

You wonder if your resemblance of her is a good thing. The only thing you heard of your grandmother are the rumours amongst the maids, that the King had a very stormy relationship with his mother, and that she passed of an illness before they could settle their differences.

King Reader releases a sigh and turns to his desk. There, he has already taken out numerous stacks of papers. You guess the duties of a King don’t stop, even on a visit like this.

“Let us start, then. In public, I want to keep up the façade that you are hardly of any interest to me. It matches with what Darius Zackly’s intel has most likely gathered about our relations,” he says, eyeing a piece of paper as he speaks.

He doesn’t look cold anymore, but you could hardly call him cordial, either. You watch his almond-shaped eyes move over the paper.

“What can you tell me about the Czar?”

You pause to think. What would your father want to know?

“He is rather soft. Very worried about the common good, a family man with close relations to his wife and kids. Courteous and concerned about my well-being.”

“Can you play that to your advantage by appealing to his emotions during negotiations? Are you in his favour?”

“He places some trust in me and has expressed fondness of me.”

“Then, can you use that during negotiations?”

You think it over.

“I think so,” you finally say. You’d like to think you know the Czar enough to pull some strings if need to.

“Very well, then. What about Darius Zackly?”

“I have only met him once. He has no interest in me whatsoever.” It’s a lie, but then again could you even tell the truth? He will find out eventually when you inform Sirius of the matter after you get chipped, but you don’t want that knowledge to tarnish these negotiations.

“I surmised as much. What about Zeke Yeager?”

You blink.

“What about him?”

“He has requested a spot at the table as well. It is not unheard of, he is the future Czar after all, and he needs to learn.”

You swallow and your eyes flicker down. The King catches onto it immediately. His eyes narrow thoughtfully.

“There is something personal there. Do not tell me you pine for him. A scandal of that order is the last thing we need-”

“I do not pine for him,” you hiss before you can help yourself. Your eyes are disgusted as you raise your gaze. “He lusts for me, but I have no intention of yielding to his demands.”

“Is that so?”

Your father falls quiet for a moment and then nods to himself.

“And your fiancé?”

“Has no interest in me. His affections lie elsewhere.”

“With who?”

You bite your lip. You’re reluctant to sell Eren and Historia out, just because you know your father will take advantage of the knowledge if it benefits him, leaving you to clean up the aftermath. Eventually, however, you yield. If it helps Novaryn, then it’s worth it.

“Historia Reiss, Zeke Yeager’s fiancée. The Czarevich is aware of the relationship and does not seem to care about it.”

“Does the Czar know?”

“I do not know.”

He nods and sits down at his desk. He places a pair of glasses on his nose and starts writing something down.

“You have gathered some intel while being here. More so than I anticipated,” he remarks, and you’re not sure if he’s attempting to compliment you.

“Outside these quarters, remember to act formally with me. I will show no fatherly affection towards you when we are in company.” He pauses writing and turns to look at you. “Do you know why I do that?”

“Because it will make us look disorganised and uncooperative. It gives them a sense of control and dominance which will set them more at ease during the negotiations and make it easier to catch them by surprise,” you slowly piece together what makes sense.

To your surprise, the King smiles a little. Not a particularly warm smile, but a contented one. Like you’re proving a theory of his.

“Good.”

Your eyes widen a little. You feel your chest balloon all of a sudden as a new sensation runs through you. It takes you a moment to realise it’s happiness. One, simple word from your father makes a larger impact on you than anything else you’ve ever heard. Maybe it’s because you lived your whole life knowing your father would never look your way, and now that he’s suddenly interested in you, even satisfied with you, it fills you with a light and airy high.

He turns back to his papers.

“We start the negotiations tomorrow at noon. Do your best to sway votes in our favour. Inside the negotiation room, normally issues are voted about. Always reciprocate my vote, no matter the issue.”

“Yes, your grace.”

“If the agreeing votes are in the majority, the terms are accepted. Until an agreement is reached, the negotiations will not cease. If we vote differently on an issue that has fifty-fifty votes, my vote weighs more than yours, and Admiral Zackly’s weighs more than the Czar’s. On their side, though, now that they have three diplomats, Admiral Zackly’s vote alone is not alone to settle and the Czar and his son can overrule him if they both vote against him. Try to play that to our advantage.”

You nod slowly.

“If your vote settles, then what is the purpose of me voting at all?”

“For there to be an agreement, two conditions must be met: there must be the majority of all votes in favour, and at least one vote in favour from each side. If I were to vote against an issue, but you and two people from Varsiko’s side were to do the same, the terms would be settled even without my approval. That being said, do not utilise this. As gifted as you are proving to be at diplomacy, you are still new.”

“Alright.”

His compliment, half-hearted as it is, warms you all the same. You watch him scribble something down on the paper in his hands.

“I believe this is all. Unless there is something else you wish to bring to my attention.”

“What are you going to do with the knowledge about my fiancé and the Czarevna?”

“Nothing, for now. It does not seem to be particularly useful, seeing how the Czarevich does not appear to care. Same goes for his interest in you, as your fiancé is not taken by you. No leverage comes with that information.”

You nod.

“After my departure, keep your eyes open for any useful intel. Do not send anything by letter, but if peace negotiations go smoothly, I ought to visit once a year or so.”

At that, you feel a little hopeful all of a sudden. If he’s going to visit here often, does that mean he will continue talking to you like this? Will you team up for the negotiations in the long run?

You wonder why he’s nothing like you anticipated. He’s efficient and to the point, but he doesn’t seem malicious or to even particularly dislike you. There’s even some interest in his eyes as he writes something else down and then looks at you over his paper.

You wonder, if he was always capable of being this amicable, why he’s never even glanced your way. You fiddle with the sleeve of your dress a little, debating whether you should just ask, but he beats you to it.

“You seem to have some concerns. I’m listening.”

He places the paper down, turns on his chair to face you properly and crosses his legs. You take a deep breath.

“Your grace-“

“We are in private, there is no need to call me that. I am your father, so you may address me as such.”

At that, your heart leaps with joy. As a stowaway child with no attention from him and nothing but nasty rumours talked of you in court, his words are almost intoxicating to you. You feel your back straighten and your eyes are sparkling a little with hopefulness.

“Alright then. F-father,” you start, and your heart jolts at the word. You have never addressed anyone with that name. “If you had no issues with me participating, why did you send that letter?”

“For two reasons. Firstly, to scare you off the job if you were not up for it. Secondly, to create a foundation for our façade of having cold relations in case the mail got seized and opened before being delivered.”

You nod, you can understand that. You lick your lips nervously.

“Then, before that… Then why did you never… I mean, you have never- Never…”

You could go head to head with Zeke Yeager and spit in his face. You could go head to head with Darius Zackly and come back with what you went to get. You could go head to head with Czar Yeager and come out on top.

Yet, this question is weighing on your heart so heavily that you find yourself stumbling over your words.

“You want to know why I never paid any attention to you growing up. Your sisters did their best to gain my approval, and I met most of them at least annually, but never you. You want to know why.”

He looks calm as if he’s been prepared for that question for a long time. He links his fingers and places his hands on his lap.

You swallow and suddenly, you need to blink back tears.

“Yes,” you answer faintly. Why was your part to only admire your father from afar, from across the yard, from across the ballroom? Why were you cast aside and sent here? Why was your mother so despised? Why did everyone wish you did not exist?

Your father takes off his glasses and sets them on the desk. He looks past you in contemplation, out of the window where he can see the clear, cloudless autumn sky.

“Your mother never told you the circumstances of our wedding, did she?” he asks. You shake your head. All you know is that your father didn’t care for her.

“Two years before your birth, Novaryn was going through exceptionally hard times. A flood from the Mantern River had destroyed many crops grown to feed Genesia City. For the first time in a century, West Novaryn was on the verge of famine.”

You listen closely. You know West Novaryn is the better off half. West is where the rich nobles reside, where the weather is more mellow, and the people are more high-class.

East Novaryn, annexed not until centuries after the kingdom was established, never quite caught up. Considered peasants and half-Varsikovians by many, they are generally looked down upon in the West. Their tax dollars are welcome to feed the West, but the cities in the East are poorer and not as well maintained.

“On the other hand, the crops in the East were doing exceptionally well, especially in the Kaekorn Province, which was led by the Bonlas family. Hardly even considered nobility, they agreed to send their extra crops to feed the people in Genesia City, but only on one condition.”

“That the Duke’s daughter gets to be your fifth wife,” you follow along. He nods.

“Reluctantly, I agreed because I knew that famine, on top of the heavy taxation caused by the war, would turn people against my regime. I did not want rebellion, so I yielded. Vincent Bonlas sent his oldest daughter, Ria, to be wedded by me.”

Your father sighs deeply.

“Ria and I, we never got along. There was no pull, no magnetism like I had with my other wives. I wedded her as requested and got the food for Genesia City. I only performed my duties with her on our wedding night, fully intent on calling her then infertile and taking a sixth wife as soon as the law permitted.”

“But she got pregnant,” you make an educated guess.

“Yes. She got pregnant. It was a surprise to both me and her. I’m not going to lie, I was annoyed by it. Another child to wed off, such a bother, when I had wordlessly agreed with Ria that I would provide her with the luxuries of being a subwife, and she would agree to stay out of the picture and lead a quiet life.”

The King pauses to think.

“Then, something happened. You are aware of the Sacred Tree, are you not?”

“I am.”

The Sacred Tree is a holy site. Many hymns, scriptures and stories are dedicated to its glory. A bronze tree growing somewhere in the Novarynian wilderness, its location unknown to all except the King and a handful of monks who dedicate their whole lives to cherishing and nourishing it. Some legends even say the Stairs to Salvation are made of wood from the Sacred Tree.

Once every few centuries, the tree withers, and the Creator plants a new one somewhere else. The monks dedicate months, sometimes years or in some legends even decades, to finding new the bronze sapling from the thick forests and flourishing terrain.

“I was committing my annual pilgrimage to pay my respects to the tree. I knelt before it, and as is customary, I prayed for the health of my unborn child. Come evening, I retired to my quarters at the monastery after spending the whole day praying and meditating, only to be awakened by panicked monks not two hours later.”

You swallow thickly.

“The tree had withered, even though it had been strong and young when I visited it, still hardly a hundred years of age. The bronze had turned into what resembled rusted copper. The cobalt blue leaves had turned faint brown and fallen right off. The roots were half off the ground. It was as if the soil had been poisoned and the tree had suckled up the venom and died off.”

You look a little unsettled then. You know the tree is supposed to give years, even decades, of warning before it withers completely. For it to die overnight, just like that, is something you never encountered in your scripture studies.

“There was only one explanation. The child Ria was carrying had done it. The monks scoured the scriptures at the monastery. For two weeks, they read as I waited and prayed. They came to me with uncertainty, saying that a being marked by the Creator like this is bound to bring great change within. Good change or bad change, they could not say.”

You feel a little numb. Not sure what to think, so you merely listen as he recaps the story.

“As I rode back to the castle, I felt curious all of a sudden. Even excited. Maybe this was the Creator’s way of telling me he has heard my prayers of better luck with my offspring. Maybe the child that was born would be a boy. A boy so strong and fearless that I would place him on the throne instead of my dear, gentle Sirius, who had a good head on his shoulders but was plagued by a lack of backbone. I arrived back home and started to eagerly await the birth of this marked child. When Ria went into labour, I dropped everything and hurried to her.“

You lower your eyes to the ground. You know you’re not what he was expecting.

“Instead of a heavy, healthy and clear-eyed boy that would take over the kingdom and lead it to glory against Varsiko, I got a daughter. The tiniest baby I had ever seen, she started screeching the moment she was out of her mother’s womb. Flailing and grabbing onto everything she could reach, desperate for human love.”

Even though you had no say in the circumstances of your birth, you still feel shame. You feel guilty that you weren’t the golden boy your father so dearly awaited.

“I looked at her once, and my heart filled with disappointment and bitterness. There was no chance she was destined for greatness. She was cursed, I concluded, a plague sent to punish me for something. I left the room and went to my quarters. I stayed up all night, drowning in my thoughts and wine. In the morning, I went to Ria’s room. I told her I wanted a moment alone with my daughter. Despite smelling the alcohol on me, she could not decline.

“Left alone with her, I grasped my knife and took it to her new-born neck. A cursed girl who was bound to bring nothing but misfortune, such a thing should be ridded of. I wanted to kill that child to save us from whatever vices she would unleash upon the world.”

You place an absent-minded hand on your neck, completely engrossed in his story.

“Then why did you not?”

“She was sleeping. I thought I could do it quickly, without thinking too deeply about my own monstrosity. Then, she woke up and opened her eyes. She saw my anguished face and felt the cold blade against her skin. She reached her small hand and wrapped it around one of my fingers. Then, she smiled, unaware that her own flesh and blood was about to kill her before she even had the chance to live.”

He releases a long breath and stands up. Walking past you to the large window, he stays quiet for a while.

“I could not kill my own seed and blood. Instead, I allowed you to grow. Part of it was curiosity, I wanted to see what you would unleash upon the world. The other part was guilt. A man cowardly enough to try to kill his new-born child deserves to bear the burden of feeding and clothing a cursed spawn. I named you Cora, after Corhakopius, the most distant star of our night sky, the Symbol of the Unknown, and gave you to your mother to raise. I would allow you the life of luxury, but I wanted no part in it. As my coldness towards you was noted by others in the castle, rumours started spreading about reasons why. Subsequently, the servants and your siblings came to dislike you as well.

“When the negotiations with Varsiko started and the issue of marriage first arose, the first candidate was Ami, not you.”

Ami. It makes sense. She’s well-behaved, calm and quiet. She would be easy to control and predict, and she would gladly have sacrificed herself for Novaryn.

“The night before signing the contracts and promising Ami to Varsiko, I had a dream of that tree. Bronze trunk with blue leaves, it was alive and well. I walked up to it with a smile. Yet, as I approached the tree, I started hearing something. A baby’s cry. I looked down, and there it was at the foot of the tree. The smallest baby I had ever seen, crying and flailing, reaching out to anything and everything. She grabbed onto the trunk of the tree, and as she did, life started draining out of it. The tree coiled and died, just like it did that day.

“I woke up in cold sweat, confused and uncertain. That dream was a sign of something, but I did not know whether it was a warning or an order. Was it a stern word to keep you away from Varsiko, or a promise that you would bring about the change we need? I had no way of knowing, yet the eyes you looked at me with when you were inches from losing your life by my hand would not leave me alone. I wanted to know. I needed to know what would happen. If I did not, I would die regretting it.”

You look confused, then. He sent you to Varsiko as a risky bet. He didn’t do it because he hated you and wanted to be rid of you, he did it because he was ready to bet his whole country over the hunch that you would not bring about destruction.

“So, I sent you away. For a time, I heard nothing from my informants in Varsiko. No word, good or bad. I wondered if the Creator had been mistaken after all. Maybe you were just a normal princess. Then, something unexpected happened. I got a word. Urgent news that you had been brutally attacked and almost murdered.

“I started preparing for your return as I awaited more details. You would not want to stay in Varsiko after nearly losing your life. You would plead Sirius for help, and he would pester me until I agreed to switch you out for Ami, or someone else. A week rolled as I waited for news. One afternoon, I was sitting in my office with Sirius, teaching him military management.

“Suddenly, a messenger knocked on the door and announced a letter from you. Sirius had been beside himself with worry as you hadn’t written in some time, so he had instructed messengers to come in immediately if you sent anything. I watched as he opened the letter, and to my surprise, he did not panic or gasp in distress. Instead, he smiled in relief. He turned to me, and told me how you were doing splendid, how you were just so caught up in your love affair with your fiancé that you forgot to write.”

He turns to face you, and you can then see it clear on his face; he’s proud of you. He smiles a little.

“Later, I found out the circumstances around your attempted murder. How you killed the assailant yourself, fell into catatonic shock just to claw your way out and keep going. How you lied to your brother to maintain the peace between our nations. I then knew that by sending you here, I had planted something powerful. When I got the news that you had managed to fight your way to the negotiation table, I was not surprised. I was curious to come here and see for myself what you have become.”

You meet his eyes. Yours are wide and full of tender hope. The small child who grew up without a word from her father is still inside you, craving for any kind of approval.

“What if I fail?” you ask. You sound uncertain and even a little afraid. What your father is telling you takes your breath away, yet it also makes you feel like you’re trying to live up to some kind of impossible standards.

“Cora,” your father says, and it’s the first time he’s ever said your name out loud. “The Creator does nothing by accident. You were meant to be here. As for how you will change the course of history, I do not know, but I do know this: everything you do will make an impact. In good or evil. And maybe, just maybe, it is up to you to decide which way the scale tips.”

He walks closer and places a hand on your shoulder.

“If I said I was not afraid, I would be lying. But I’m not going to back down now. We Readers were never ones to pass up on things just because we are afraid. That blood of daring is in you, just as it is in me.”

You nod. You want to take his hand and hug him. Not as the Thirteenth Princess of Novaryn, the cursed child marked by the Creator to change things, but as Cora, the girl who never had a father but always wished for one in her most private dreams. What he tells you, just as well as it could mean you’re somehow marked by the Creator, could just as well be nothing but a tale of an old man abandoning his child for nothing but superstition.

“Yet I must confess, one thing makes me rather uneasy,” your father admits. With nimble fingers, he quickly undoes your ribbon, revealing the kiss mark to his eyes.

Instantly, you gasp and hurry to cover the skin. You take a step back and watch him with wide eyes.

“How- How did you know?”

“You said you have not yielded to the Czarevich’s demands nor is your fiancé interested in you. Yet, you have already lost your Sphere of Light.”

He looks at you, and suddenly he seems a little sad.

“You carry the Mark of Damnation. You cannot return to the Creator’s favour. You are destined for eternal torture after you depart this Earth.”

You nod. You know. It’s a decision you willingly made when you laid with Levi. The thought should scare you, but the longer you spend in Varsiko, the more you get detached from all things related to your Creator. Somehow, it doesn’t feel real anymore.

You meet your father’s eyes and straighten your back. You will not be sorry. Not for this.

“Then,” you dare to say, “I guess you will have no choice but to place your hopes in the hands of a Spawn of Damnation. I do not regret it, father. I could never regret having loved him.”

He hums.

“Some say that to die without the sin of love is a price worse than the anguish that comes with it. I will not moralise you for your feelings for a tarnished man but be careful. We do not want an incident. You know what I mean.”

Don’t get pregnant.

You nod.

Your father huffs a little and dares to give you a small smile. He cups your cheek briefly and then moves away, back to his desk. He’s back to his efficient, business-oriented mind space. He’s done having a heart-to-heart.

“I believe you should leave to get prepared for dinner. Remember our plan for tomorrow. I will not contact you privately anymore before that, it would be too risky.”

“Yes, father.”

You move for the door. As you’re admitted out and one of your father’s guards escorts you back to your quarters, you’re deep in thought. By the time you walk back in and Levi hurries to check on you, your mind is dizzy with thoughts as you digest all you just heard.

You shake your head as you feel a dull ache creeping up your veins to your brain. You slump against Levi with your full weight. He can read your expression just fine; you got a lot of new information.

“I’ll tell you all later. Just…” you trail off. He understands. He doesn’t wrap his arms around you but instead, stands tall and sturdy as you lean on him.

Your salvation yet also your damnation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who ordered some Backstory with a side of Exposition?
> 
> Well, now we know why Cora was so despised and what fuelled his father's cold behaviour. Is Cora just a regular girl who happened to be born around unfortunate circumstances and thus, was victimised by her superstitious father, or is she truly marked by some kind of higher power, I'll leave that up to you to interpret. Know this, though: all of Cora's victories are her own and she's earned them without any help from any God. I feel like that's important ^^ Who's ready for some negotiations?
> 
> Also, yay, I'm back. School still sucks but at least I'm nearing the end now. Corona is... Yeah. Well, let's keep fic zone free of that and instead focus on escaping for a while with some stories.
> 
> Comments are my bread and butter. I love comments and I am grateful for every reader who leaves one. They keep me going and motivate me, so if you want to cheer me up, please consider leaving a comment! ^^
> 
> Until next time!


	15. The Wedding

As morning rises in Varsiko, you’ve already been awake for a few hours. Even Levi, who usually wakes up before you, awakes to the sight you sitting on your bed, your arms looped around your knees as you stare out of the window in deep contemplation.

After your meeting with your father, you explained everything to Levi. He didn’t put too much stock on any kind of omens or prophecies, and he even went as far as calling your father’s words “some first-grade mumbo jumbo”.

During the dinner, you convincingly played the part of a dejected daughter as your father ignored you. The mood was exceptionally stiff, and the Czar was the only person who kept the conversation rolling with casual questions and non-convincing compliments.

Five days of negotiations start now. You will be expected to attend them every day from morning until dinnertime.

Maid Springer gets you ready in near silence, and when you set course for breakfast, you feel Levi’s eyes on you.

“You’ll do great,” he tells you as you walk towards the dining hall. You give him a small smile over your shoulder.

“Do you truly think so?”

“Yes.”

You smile. You hope he’s right.

You eat, ignoring the way everyone at the table throws you looks. Zeke looks amused as always whereas the Czar and Historia seem rather worried.

You ignore them and eat without a word. Your father, aside from his customary dinner with the Czar last night, has wished to have his meals alone.

The Czar shows you and Zeke the way after you’ve eaten. He walks you to the North Wing where the negotiation room is situated. You haven’t been there before, but as you arrive, you see three doors at the end of a long hallway that’s covered with a heavy red carpet. The further you walk, the fewer people you see.

There’s a large entranceway at the very end of the hallway, and a regular door on the corridor on each side of it. Two guards stand by the main door and one by each of the side ones.

“Your grace. The King of Novaryn and Admiral Zackley have already arrived. Novaryrians to the left, Varsikovians to the right,” one of the guards instructs you.

The Czar nods towards the door on the left.

“Go on, my dear. I’ll see you at the negotiation table.”

You give him your trained smile, decisively keeping your eyes off Zeke. You turn, and the guard opens the door for you.

The waiting room is rather small. A fireplace, a couch and a desk are situated inside. Your father is already there. Wearing less formal attire than yesterday, he’s reading over some papers at the desk when you enter.

He waits until the door has closed after you before speaking up.

“I hope you have rested. The next few days will be long.”

“I did manage to sleep some.”

“Good. Try to stay well-rested and nourished.” He gets up and turns to face you. He pauses to look over you and then smiles just a little.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes,” you reply softly. You’re nervous but not second-guessing. Your father walks to you and places a gentle hand on your back.

“Stand up straight and raise your chin,” he instructs. “Treat this as any kind of diplomatic mingling. The second they see a weakness, they will jump at it.”

You straighten your back and give him a small, nervous smile.

“I will be alright,” you reassure him just as much as yourself. You release a deep breath and glance at the papers.

“Is there anything I should know before we go?”

“No. Just keep your ears open and vote in line with me.”

Advice you’re all too alright with following, aside from one issue.

You step into the negotiation room after your father. It’s wide and full of organic sunlight as the walls are covered with large windows. There’s nothing in the room aside from a small wooden table.

The edges of it are carved with Alchemical symbols that you can’t recognise. The chairs are so heavy you struggle a bit with pulling yours back as you sit down next to your father.

Zeke, the Czar and Admiral Zackly are already in position, sitting on the opposite side. The table is so small you could touch them if you reached out, but still wide enough to convey a feeling of distance as the two opposing sides.

The rest of the room is filled with empty space, and you feel a tad puzzled. Why such a large room for so little furniture?

Levi and the rest of the guards are left in the corridor, and only a maid is admitted in to pour each of you a cup of tea. You notice the way your father purses his mouth after taking a sip.

He’s not used to the earthy, grassy flavour. The tea in Novaryn is much smoother and sweeter, but you’ve grown accustomed to the taste of Varsikovian tea by now and take eager sips out of the warm clay cup as your father and Admiral Zackly arrange their papers in front of them.

“People present at the negotiation. From Varsiko’s side, Admiral Darius Zackly, Leader of the Sovereign Army of the Czardom of Varsiko, Czar Grisha Yeager of the Czardom of Varsiko, First Czarevich Zeke Yeager, Heir Apparent of the Czardom of Varsiko. From Novaryn’s side, King Olaf Reader of the Kingdom of Novaryn, Princess Cora Reader, 13th Heir for the Royal Throne of Novaryn, Fiancée of Eren Yeager, the Second Czarevich of the Czardom of Varsiko.”

Admiral Zackly hands a piece of paper to the Czar. He signs it and hands it forward to Zeke, who after signing in turn gives it to your father. Once you get the paper to your hands, you quickly sign your name to prove your attendance for bookkeeping.

“I hereby declare these negotiations to be legal and fully operational. All that’s spoken may legally be documented and archived.”

Darius Zackly takes out a small wooden hammer and bangs it into the table once.

“The negotiations are now in session. The first issue of concern is the dispute over Coastal Varsiko and the borders within the Mantern River. Furthermore, some squabbles have come to our attention between Varsikovian and Novarynian fishermen over fishing rights to parts of the Mortis Sea…”

It’s… Surprisingly mundane. You listen politely and keep your mouth shut as your father takes out a map with lines scribbled to where he suggests the borders should be set, only for the Czar to protest because some valuable breeds of fish live in Novaryn’s side and it would be a tough spot for Varsikovian fishermen if those spots were to be taken from them.

Soon, it evolves into a meticulous bargain between your father and the Czar. You keep a close ear on what they’re speaking but allow your eyes to wander just a bit.

Zeke is looking at you, just as he always is. He gives you a small grimace conveying his boredom. The corner of your eye twitches at how casual he still insists on being with you. Like you’re two buddies stuck in a boring lecture together.

You turn your eyes away and instead direct them down to your hands.

It takes the Czar and your father almost half an hour to work out the details. When they finally do, a new map is passed around the table. It doesn’t say much to you.

“All in favour of these borders, raise your hand,” Darius Zackly says. You mimic your father. It’s a unanimous pass.

“I hereby declare these borders now fully legal and operational.” Darius Zackly bangs the table with his hammer.

“The second issue of concern is the import and export of Varsikovian goods to Novaryn. As officially non-hostile nations, Varsiko and Novaryn would both benefit from business with each other. However, the use of Alchemical compounds in raised crops in Varsiko is a point of contest to many…”

You watch as your father starts yet another round of negotiations, this time with Darius Zackly.

“To eat food that has Black Science weaved into it is something I cannot permit. In order to accept imports from Varsiko, it will have to be free of all traces of Alchemy.”

“That is impossible. We have no fields that are not handled with Alchemical Compounds.”

“In that case, I cannot permit a trade deal.”

You frown. Even you know enough to tell that the food situation near the Varsikovian border is not good and that they would benefit from imported goods. In fact, the famine caused by the war is the worst exactly in Southeast Novaryn.

“Very well. All in favour of abandoning the proposal of trading of goods-”

“Wait,” you cut in. Instantly, you see Zeke grin and lean in with an amused glint to his eyes. That little bastard, he probably decided to come here just for his amusement.

“The areas that would most likely be the main recipients of trading are struggling as is and the extra food could alleviate decades of food shortage. Furthermore, Varsiko produces far more potatoes, cabbage and turnips than they consume. Some are shipped off to colonies, but a sizable chunk is still available for export. Doing so could also increase the wealth of Varsikovian farmers.”

“Yes, in theory. But in practice, if they are going to use Alchemical compounds-”

“Your grace, I have studied the same scriptures you have, as a part of my mandatory education on my path to a model citizen of Stelanian faith. I do not recall scripture forbidding the consumption of goods produced with the aid of Black Science.”

“Well, Sprouts of Wisdom, Chapter six, paragraph two-”

“Those who are enticed by the arts of Black Science and stray from the light of our Creator’s Star are to forever carry the Mark of Damnation,” you easily recap. “You have been eating goods made with Black Science. Is your Sphere of Light gone?”

It should be, according to all logic, if eating goods raised with Alchemy was prohibited.

“Well, no, but my favour with the Creator is of a much higher calibre than a commoner’s,” your father says. He looks a little bit irritated, but he’s still trying to reason with you rather than just overruling you.

“Would the Creator punish a man for eating when he’s starving? For filling his children’s stomachs after decades of struggle? I believe in the benevolence of our Creator, your grace. I do not think He would.”

“I do not agree.“

His tone has some finality to it. You feel the eyes of all three on the other side of the table on you.

“All in favour of authorising the export and import of Varsikovian goods into Novaryn, raise your hands.”

Your father gives you a warning glance, but you’re not looking at him. You raise your hand in unison with the rest, leaving only the King in disagreement.

As per rules of the negotiations, you have a majority vote and the terms may pass.

Admiral Zackly hits his hammer as a sign that the proposal has been accepted. You meet your father’s irate eyes calmly. He sighs, as if understanding he can’t win you over on this, and instead turns to address the next issue.

The rest of the negotiations, you vote in unison with your father as his view on things corresponds with you. But as you sit there, the small victory of securing those hungry people on Southeast Novaryn some food to eat, you realise that you’re not at your father’s mercy here.

He might not like it, but you have some influence, and you won’t just idly let him make decisions against the common good.

When you quit for the day, it’s already toeing dinnertime. Your father gets up without a glance your way and as you curtsey at the rest and follow him to the waiting room, he turns to you the moment you’re alone again.

“I thought I told you to mirror my votes,” he states and crosses his arms. You cross yours and face him, ignoring that part of you that’s eager to please him in the hopes of getting attention and praise, something you’ve lacked your whole life.

“Those people near the border need the food. There is no scripture forbidding it. If it is of that much importance to the Creator, he would have forbidden it in clearer terms.”

Your father sighs. You anticipate a storm but instead, he turns and drops the issue.

“Realistically, I did not expect you to just sit still and let me do all the talking. I will not reprimand you, but I wish you would think carefully before exercising that power. Some decisions will have repercussions that may be unclear to you.”

“And today’s decision?”

“Time will tell. It will probably be alright, but if I receive word from our monks in the East that our people are losing their favour with the Creator, I will have to stop the trade.”

“Alright.”

“Go rest. Tomorrow will be just as long.”

“I expected you to be more upset that I went against you,” you admit. Your father chuckles and walks to you. He places a hand on your shoulder.

“I would be disappointed if the seed of change I planted in this land yielded no will of its own. You are meant to pave your own path. I trust my gut that you will lead our relations with Varsiko to greatness. I am reaping what I sowed when I see you go against me.”

“Oh, Father,” your eyes soften. You want to hug him, but you know it would be unbecoming of you. “Thank you, for trusting me.”

He pulls his hand back and walks to his desk.

“Rest. I will see you tomorrow morning.”

When you walk out of the room, Levi gives you a long look. You look dreamy and there’s an idle smile on your face. You walk back to your quarters to briefly get ready for dinner.

“I take it went well.”

You smile at Levi.

“I thought I would hate my father. That he would be a cruel, callous man. Turns out I was wrong.”

He releases a hum and briefly pats your head as he walks past you.

-

The second and third day of the negotiations go by without incident. You vote in line with your father on everything that time, and by the time the fourth day rolls around, you feel more or less accustomed to this.

Most of the issues brought to the negotiation table are very mundane. Resource allocation, border disputes, things like that. A few time they touch upon the case of war crimes or exchange of prisoners, but an agreement hasn’t been reached yet.

You’re sitting at the table next to your father, trying to stay invested in some trade route dispute but it’s hard. The negotiations have already gone on for six rounds, and you’re getting hungry. You mimic your father’s vote and you’re hopeful the issues will be done for the day, just to hear something that makes your heart suddenly speed up.

“Thirteenth issue of concern: The Thirteenth Princess of Novaryn, Cora Reader, has brought forward a plea for the immediate shutdown of factories run by enslaved Novarynians and their descendants. She petitions for the immediate return of the slaves from the metal factories, back to Novarynian custody.”

You sense your father stiffening next to you. He turns to look at you, but you keep your gaze ahead.

“All in favour, raise your hands.”

You raise yours, and the astonishment on both the Czar’s and your father’s face is priceless when Darius Zackly and Zeke raise theirs in unison as well.

“What…? Wh-“ the Czar turns his confused eyes to you, but you give nothing away as you steadily keep your hand raised.

“The terms are hereby legally accepted and set. The slaves will be shipped off tomorrow morning. That is all for the day.”

Darius Zackly gets up, sets his tall stack of papers straight and speedily walks out of the room before the Czar can ask him anything. Zeke gets up, gives you a lazy nod as a goodbye and leaves.

You’re now wondering if Darius Zackly asked Zeke to participate just so you could get majority votes on this issue.

Nonetheless, the deed is done. What’s left is to pay the price.

“Cora, how did you-?” the Czar asks as he gets on his feet. You give him a calm look.

“Do not worry, your grace. I’m sure Darius Zackly will have the slaves replaced with other foreign labour in no time.”

You curtsey and follow your father as he walks inside the waiting room without a word. He seems calm, but you’re not surprised when he slams the papers on the desk and turns to face you with a hardened expression.

“What have you promised Darius Zackly in exchange for the slaves?” he asks you straightforwardly. You close your mouth tightly.

“He is not someone who listens to pleas for humanity. You have offered him something worth more to him than a few very profitable factories. What is that something?”

“I cannot tell you,” you say and straighten your back. “But I can promise you that you will find out in due time and that I will not put Novaryn’s safety at risk.”

He sighs deeply and places a hand on his temple to massage it. You’re clearly testing the limits of his trust in your good influence on his kingdom.

“Are you truly trying to tell me you could offer him something of personal nature that he wanted enough to let go of these factories?” he asks with a long-suffering sigh.

“Yes.”

“He does not seem the type to be interested in personal gifts.”

“It was a matter of what I had to offer.”

His eyes narrow with suspicion. You should have worded that better.

“Do not tell me you have an affair with Darius Zackly,” he groans. You swallow. Well, that would at least end his questions and probably make him drop the issue.

Let’s go with that.

“That is none of your concern. All you need to know is that the slaves will return to Novaryn come tomorrow and that you do not need to bother yourself with the price tag. I have already taken care of that.”

“Cora,” your father starts, “rumours will spread. Using your body is not unheard of when pursuing diplomatic leverage but should anyone ever find out that you have forsaken your future husband, we will be in deep trouble. Be mindful of who you lay with. I know you are aching to be useful but respect yourself. You are a royal. A bright and resourceful royal at that. You do not need to resort to this to get your way. What is done is done, but please stay reminded of this.”

You feel some warmth at that. Being told you’re worthy, it does things to your self-esteem. You swallow and smile, your eyes glistening a little as his words touch you.

“Thank you, father.”

He pats your shoulder.

“You are not just some throwaway child. You are the daughter of a long line of kings, and the Creator has marked you. So, hold your head up high. There is very little you cannot do.”

You smile at him then. Not a trained one but a beaming, authentic kind that lights up your eyes. He smiles a little and moves for the door after grabbing his documents from the desk.

“Let us finish these negotiations strong tomorrow.”

When you walk out after a few minutes, Levi only needs to look at you once to confirm his suspicions: your father has done more to boost your self-esteemed than anything else ever has. You’re confident and determined as you walk back to your quarters, and tonight, you fall asleep the moment you lay your head on your pillow.

-

It’s the first time you’ve ever set foot in the ceremony hall. Usually out of order, it’s located in the military base, in the Westernmost wing. As you step inside, your hand holding onto Eren’s arm as is customary, you can’t help the small gasp.

You never thought Varsikovians were capable of being so… Ornate. You look at the ruby-covered chandeliers, the benches covered with red satin, the rich grey curtains that are drawn over the wide windows, giving the space a dream-like quality by depriving it of sunlight.

You look at the thousands of lit candles, the guests that pour in with you and sit down at the benches.

Eren guides you to the front row with the Czar and Czarina. Your father is sitting further back with his guards. Levi is standing guard by the door with the other soldiers.

In front of the satin benches is a small stage with nothing on it. Behind the stage is a small doorway, covered with thick grey curtains.

Weddings are different in Novaryn. In Novaryn, the couple is taken to a small monastery where they kneel before an altar of the Creator. A monk conjoins their spheres of light with a small prayer, and the couple is not allowed to touch each other until they’re out of the sight of the Creator’s watchful eye.

Outside, the guests and loved ones wait and the most lovesick couples cheerfully kiss the second their feet leave the monastery ground. More chaste couples wait until the celebrations are over before engaging in anything intimate.

Here, the ceremony is big and public. Nobles from around Varsiko are here. You see a few people in Ljudel’s colours and you could swear you see a solemn-looking man wearing yellow, black and orange, Nambala’s colours, who looks exactly like Historia. A few crests and colours you do not recognise despite your best efforts at memorising as many as you could from _Song of Steel_ before the ceremony.

Your father has maintained his position of not being fond of you in public and thus, it’s only a little surprising when Eren leans in as you wait.

“So, your dad is a real ass, huh. Sucks,” he says. You glance at Eren, he looks somewhat awkward but very genuine.

He sincerely feels bad for you. Which would be sweet and all was he not scheming to kill you not a month ago.

You wonder what happened to that plot. You haven’t conversed much with Historia and she hasn’t visited you in quite some time. You assume it’s because she’s been busy with wedding preparations. You hope it’s not because they’re about to come at you with another attempt.

You’re not too worried about that. As it is, Levi still hasn’t approved of new guards for you and instead, has opted to stand by your side night and day. A decision you wish was as good for his health as it is to your peace of mind.

“I did not expect anything else, so I’m fine,” you reply calmly. He gives you a long look. You can see he’s tense, probably not the least because the woman he appears to be in love with is just about to marry his brother.

“You’re tough,” he finally states. You raise an eyebrow.

“Is that a compliment?”

“The fact that you think it tells me enough.”

“You cannot survive in an environment like this without being tough,” you simply say.

“I’m sorry you had to become like that.”

This time, you properly gape at him. What is he playing at? Is this another scheme to get you to trust him or open up to him? Then again, Eren was never good at keeping his emotions off his face and you can tell he’s being genuine.

“What are you trying to do?” you ask him bluntly. “You have never been pleasant to me, why start now?”

He averts his eyes with a guilty hue. He bites his lip and wonders how to respond.

“I know I haven’t been the kindest, but-”

He doesn’t get further than that when the curtains at the back of the small stage suddenly yank open, revealing Historia and Zeke to your eyes.

Zeke’s wearing his usual formal wear, the grey silken uniform and boots accentuated with a red belt and scarf.

Historia, on the other hand, is dressed in all black. She lifts her heavy skirts as she allows herself to be escorted to the stage by Zeke. A black tiara is placed on her weaved, golden hair, and even her eyelids and lips have been painted deep raven colour.

She looks sad. You can’t help but notice her pleading eyes flicker to Eren once before she turns her whole attention to Zeke and Darius Zackly, who has now approached the altar.

You sense Eren’s tenseness next to you as Darius Zackly settles to stand behind Zeke and Historia.

“Ribbons.”

Simultaneously, Zeke reaches his right hand and Historia her left. They open the ribbons around each other’s wrists and start quietly working on tying them together.

It takes a little time, as they’re only allowed to use the hands that won’t be tied, but eventually they manage to tie the silken ribbons together so that their wrists are now joined.

“Under the Sovereign rule, we have gathered to set these two people together. May their lives and union be long and fruitful.”

Historia is carrying it well, but you can see she’s cracking at the seams.

“Zeke Yeager, the First Czarevich of the Czardom of Varsiko, the Heir Apparent of Czar Grisha Yeager. Do you hereby take Historia Reiss as your lawful spouse and agree to treat her with dignity and according to her value, as your wife and Czarevna?”

“Yes.”

“Historia Reiss, the Crown Princess of the Former Kingdom of Nambala, the daughter of Noble and Former King Rod Reiss. Do you hereby take Zeke Yeager as your lawful spouse and agree to treat him with respect and devotion according to his value, as your husband and Czarevich?”

“Yes.”

Her voice is tight and barely audible whereas Zeke’s was clear and void of emotion.

“You may claim her.”

Zeke easily yanks Historia in and kisses her, enough so that some of the black lipstick smears and ends up on his lips. It’s not a passionate kiss and Historia is clearly uncomfortable even though she obediently answers Zeke’s gesture.

“From this moment on, I declare you legally wed.”

There’s no applause as Zeke undoes the ribbon and starts escorting Historia back to the doorway they came from.

As they disappear from sight, the guests get up and start wandering back towards the yard where the carriages are waiting to take them back to the Rekanon Castle where the party is held.

You glance at Eren, whose jaws are clenched. There’s a certain look of mixed pain and anger in his eyes. Despite all they’ve done to you, him and Historia, you can’t keep yourself from feeling bad for them.

-

You don’t even want to think how much money was sunk into this party. The ballroom is packed with people waltzing to a small orchestra of strings that are sitting in the corner. The hall itself, decorated with red curtains and carpets and countless flower bouquets lined on the sides and even attached to the chandeliers in the ceiling, is sparkling in the setting sunlight.

Maids are walking around with trays of food and wine, serving the customers who are getting merrier and more intoxicated every passing minute. Outside, peasants have gathered around the castle gates in the hopes of seeing even a glimpse of the newlywed couple.

Zeke and Historia are walking around arm in arm, conversing with pleasant smiles. Historia has calmed down so she no longer looks like she’s about to break down, but you can still tell she’s stiff.

You spend the first couple of hours in the lavishly ornated ballroom by giving small-talk to all curious and nosy nobles and foreigners who are dying to see Novarynian royalty for themselves. You stay with Eren, holding onto his arm properly.

He’s terrible with small talk, so you reach a wordless agreement where you do it for both of them.

Your father is conversing with Ljudelian royals in one of the corners. The Czar and Czarina are entertaining some Varsikovian nobles.

You miss Levi’s presence behind you. Like all the other guards, he’s standing in the sidelines, though you can feel his hawk eyes on your back as you saunter around with Eren.

The second the mingling part is over and the majority of guests have moved to either eat and drink in excess or dance, you dare to pull your hand away from Eren.

“I will step outside for a moment. It is rather hot in here,” you tell him. He nods slowly. His eyes search Historia where she’s sharing a dance with Zeke, and you see the annoyance loud and clear.

You leave him to glare at the two and instead slip to the balcony.

It’s empty and as you step outside, the sky is already dark. You breathe a sigh of relief as you feel the cool air on your skin. You lean against the castle wall and close your eyes for a small moment.

“You shouldn’t sneak out on your own.”

You open your eyes and smile at Levi harmlessly. He walks up to you and crosses his arms.

“I just needed some fresh air.”

He doesn’t reply. Instead, he leans against the wall next to you and gives you an unreadable look. You see his eyes twinkle a little in the darkness and you can instantly tell there’s something on his mind.

“I feel sorry for Historia,” you confess.

“Even after all she’s done?”

“Even after all she has done.”

Levi hums thoughtfully and looks out to the dark horizon. You can hear the music, giggling and chattering inside, but it feels like a completely different world now.

“What is it?” you ask.

“You and the Czarevich look unexpectedly good together,” he observes, but there’s a certain unhappy tone to his voice that you can decipher only because you know him so well by now.

“Is that what is bothering you?” you ask and turn to face him properly. Levi looks pensive.

“It was a reminder,” he finally admits. “That sooner or later, you will have to be wed as well.”

“Yes, I will have to marry the Czarevich,” you concede. “But that does not change my feelings, Levi. Eren will never come to love me and I will never come to love him. My heart will always be yours.”

You reach a hand and cup his jaw to bring him closer. It’s dark out here and should anyone come in, you’re concealed in the shadows and could easily break apart before being detected.

You press your foreheads together. You feel his hesitant arm wrap around your waist.

“I’ll miss you,” he says with a low, intimate voice. “When you get chipped and stop being you.”

“You got chipped but you are still you,” you remind him. He shakes his head.

“I don’t feel like myself,” he confesses. “Since I was chipped, nothing felt real anymore. I feel like a puppet on an invisible string.”

You nuzzle your faces together and feel so tempted to kiss him. He catches onto it as well, because he reluctantly pulls away before you can make your mouths meet.

“Let’s go back. Before they start searching for you,” he says. You release a heavy breath and follow him back, just to almost crash into Zeke.

“There you are,” he smiles widely. Levi releases a growl next to you, but the sound is swallowed by the buzz of the party around you.

“Care to share a dance?”

You open your mouth to reject him, but he leans in before you can.

“Poor Historia could use a break and if I dance with you, she has the perfect excuse to dance with my beloved little brother.”

You give him a small glare, but even though you know you have no reason to extend any kind of empathy towards Historia, you can’t help but search her in the crowd. She’s standing a little further back, conversing with Eren, and you notice the way she hopefully glances at you and Zeke. She wants to be away from him for a while.

You curse your soft heart and give Zeke a reluctant nod despite the unhappy glares Levi directs at you.

“Just one,” you tell him. His eyes flash with something you can’t put your finger on.

“One is enough.”

You give Levi a small glance and notice that Reiner has walked up to stand next to him. You look a little bit worried as Reiner and Levi have had some altercations before.

You take Zeke’s arm and let him guide you to the dance floor. It’s packed, and you feel a little bit disgusted as he places a hand on your waist and starts leading the dance.

“Enjoying the wedding?” he asks lightly. You give him a narrow-eyed look.

“I was, until now.” You dare to speak bluntly as there’s so much commotion around you that no one can hear you.

“You did well at the negotiations.”

You make a point of not thanking him. You feel him rub your waist, his other hand links your fingers together and you feel increasingly frustrated.

“Can you not stop being inappropriate, even at your own wedding?” you ask pointedly. He chuckles.

“Going to spit in my face again?” he asks with an unnerving grin. He pulls you a bit closer. “The more you fight, the more invested I’ll become in owning you.”

“You will never own me, Zeke Yeager,” you groan.

“Oh, but are you sure?” he asks and his grin widens. “You may have dodged a few of my attempts, but I’ll have my way.”

Your eyes harden and you try to pull away, but he doesn’t allow it. Instead, he reels you in so tight your chests are touching and lowers his voice.

“I hope you are happy with the choices you’ve made, pet,” he hums, and his eyes suddenly turn colder.

“What do you mean?” you ask warily. He looks straight into your eyes, this time without any kind of mask or pretence.

“So many places where you could have chosen otherwise, yet you didn’t,” Zeke says, and you see it in his eyes for the first time then, the cold sadism. The urge to own and kill. For the first time, he looks so dangerous your body goes cold.

“You could have left after I ordered Historia to smoke you out before our wedding is due. The poor girl got so desperate she tried to kill you. You could have succumbed to the attack and died or stayed in a catatonic state. You could have freed the slaves with my help and started a diplomatic incident. You could have lain with me and initiated a scandal. Had you chosen any of those, I wouldn’t have to resort to this.”

You frown. Is he coming clean to you?

As you think about it, you realise you shouldn’t be surprised. Historia acting on Zeke’s orders makes perfect sense. Why she seemed so reluctant and like she might have genuinely liked you. Why she grew increasingly antsy and said she _panicked_ and that’s why she ordered a hit on you. Why Eren was so against this.

It wasn’t because she and Eren wanted you out of the picture so they could be together. It was because Zeke ordered her to get you out of the way. Without a doubt by offering some leverage into Nambalese politics when he becomes the Czar.

“So, you do not want me? You just wished to start a scandal?”

“Don’t be silly, pet. Of course, I’ll still have you,” Zeke chuckles.

“Then, why drive Historia to the point where she tries to kill me?”

You’re tense in his hold. Around you, people are dancing and chattering, and despite the dangerous look in his eyes, Zeke doesn’t miss a step as he leads you around the dance floor.

“This peace is inconvenient. My father is a soft-hearted fool, but I see things for what they are. While I would love to own you, you’re not valuable enough to sacrifice my long-term goals for. I did not authorise her attempt on your life, but I did see it coming.”

“And what are your goals? What are you after?” you ask, eyes boring strictly into his. He chuckles.

“My goal is the exact opposite of yours. It’s going to be an interesting fight, pet. You can’t stop me, but seeing you struggle to the very end is going to be the best kind of entertainment I’ve had in my whole life.”

His eyes move to something behind you, and a small smile rises to his cheeks.

“Ah. Here we go.”

He grabs you and quite suddenly turns you around. The dance floor around you stays lively, the orchestra keeps playing. You feel your back press against his chest, and you try to struggle for a fleeting second, before your eyes land on something that catches your full attention.

Moving through the crowded hall is a woman. Her brown hair is tied up on a ponytail, and her guard uniform seems legitimate. You wouldn’t even pay any attention to her was it not for her face.

She’s the freckled woman you saw Zeke conversing with in the yard all those weeks ago. A matter you completely forgot as everything else seemed more urgent.

It’s when you watch her, eyes slowly widening, that you recall why she looked so familiar, for it was this very same maid you’ve seen, more than once, back home. Suddenly, the image flashes in your mind clear as a mirage, of when you were leaving Genesia Castle.

_Your sparse belongings are packed in a single suitcase. A freckled maid packs them in and then stands aside with a curtsey._

It was her. Back in the castle, back in Novaryn.

As you connect the dots, dread washes over you. You kick yourself free from Zeke’s hold and start shoving your way through the dance floor, but you’re halfway across the hall.

“Levi! Stop her!” you scream, but your voice drowns into the sea of drunken laughter and chatter.

“Father! Father!” you try to screech, but aside from a few nobles nearby who turn to give you weird looks, no one hears you.

You see the woman easily slip past the Novarynian guards who are occupied with monitoring the larger crowds. She’s clutching something in her fist. With growing desperation, you push your way through the crowd.

Just as you make it to the edge of the dance floor and start dashing towards your father, the woman lunges forward.

Your father notices you trying to get to him just as she does. Your eyes meet, and for a moment he looks confused. He has no time to process that as a knife slides into his throat and slits it open with one, clean hit.

“NO!”

You push the last of the people out of the way and dash to him, just as his eyes turn from confused to glossy and he slumps down. He’s gone before you have time to say anything to him. No words of goodbye are exchanged.

Just like that, the course of history changes completely.

A warm spray of blood hits you in the face. The guards, only now realising what’s happened, hurry to him, but you stop them.

“Over there!” you shout and point at the woman, who slips into the crowd just as everyone around you catches up to the situation. “The woman with brown hair, freckles and a guard uniform! Stop her!”

You hear gasps and murmurs. A couple of people scream as they see the King of Novaryn lying in a pool of blood. You kneel next to him and roll him over to his back.

You watch over his face helplessly, but he’s long gone. Nothing can save him now.

You felt like you had a father, for a few blissful days. Now, that blessing is gone and you’re left to fare by yourself again. People gather around you and whisper and murmur to each other. You see the Czar from the corner of your eye as he hurries to the scene with a group of guards.

Levi finally gets to you. You didn’t see it, but Reiner was doing his utmost best to hinder him from pursuing you.

He grabs you and pulls you to your feet.

“We can’t stay here. I’ll take you somewhere safe,” he tells you urgently. You’re in shock, your eyes glued to your father’s lifeless face.

Why did you not look into the woman earlier? Why did you forget about her? Guilt settles in your stomach and starts eating at your resolve like a parasite. If you had realised things earlier, maybe you could have kept this from happening.

“Close the doors. No one leaves this castle until we find who did this,” you hear the Czar command. “Call an Elder immediately. Cora, dear, go back to your room.”

Levi grabs you and throws you over his shoulder when you stay unresponsive, your mind completely buzzed.

As he starts carrying you away from the crowd, towards your quarters, your eyes slide over the crowd. You see Historia, covering her mouth with wide eyes. You see Eren, who’s looking at your shocked face with obvious sympathy.

The Czar is conversing something with Darius Zackly in a very heated manner. The Novarynian guards are kneeling next to your father’s body. The woman is nowhere to be seen.

Then, your eyes land on Zeke, and you suddenly remember the obvious; he’s behind this. He’s the one who sent the woman to kill your father. You don’t know why, but he did.

He’s looking at you with a small smirk, his chin cocked up as if to ask you what your next move is. You avoided his traps for so long and now he’s made his move. What will yours be?

Your eyes fill with hatred. You want to run to him, sink your nails into his eyes and gauge them out just to wipe that smug look from his face.

He killed your father. Just as things were going smoothly and you started feeling a true connection to him.

When Novaryn finds out about this, the war will resume immediate-

You snap back to life mid-thought as you realise the full impact of this. The war will resume. Zeke, without a doubt, wanted to sabotage the peace. First by assigning Historia to smoke you out of the castle. Then by allowing her to try and kill you. Then by trying to ignite a scandal by having you either lay with him or free the slaves behind the Czar’s back.

You close your eyes and start fighting the thick fog of shock that so persistently slows your thoughts. You need to calm down. You can’t afford to shut down like you did when you were attacked.

You only have precious hours, if that, before the news spread to Novaryn and the troops will be re-mobilised.

First, you need to minimise the repercussions.

“Levi, wait,” you tell your guard. He pauses where he’s climbing to the West Wing. “I cannot go to my quarters just yet. I need to get to my father’s room, as quickly as possible.”

“I need to guarantee your safety-”

“If you want to increase the chances that I get out of this mess alive, you take me to my father’s room. Levi, I need to act now.”

Levi contemplates, but only for a second or two. Then, he turns around and starts carrying you towards the guest quarters.

The couple of minutes it takes him to swiftly get you there is enough for you to steel your nerves and formulate a plan.

Levi pauses and sets you down just before you round the corner to the King’s room.

“There will be Novarynian guards. They won’t let you in,” Levi surmises. You nod. You know there’s nothing you can say to make them let you through. Novarynian or not, you’re still just a princess and they don’t trust you.

“Get them out of the way.”

“On it.”

Levi, to your astonishment, doesn’t protest at all. He takes out his rifle and walks around the corner. You can immediately hear sounds of struggling, followed by three loud whacks.

“Coast is clear.”

You round the corner, just to see three Novarynian guards slumped on the ground. Maimed and each bleeding from the head, they look lifeless.

“Are they dead?”

“Unconscious.”

You nod. The door is locked, but Levi kicks it in without issues. You hurry inside and turn to Levi. There’s no one around, so you dare to cup his cheek.

“Do not let anyone here until I say otherwise. I trust you.”

He nods, grabs your hand to squeeze it once and then turns to guard the room. You close the door after yourself and take a deep breath.

You need to minimise the damage, and the number one concern is Novaryn’s national security. Who knows what your father is keeping here.

You walk to the stacks of papers on his desk and grab them. You don’t have time to go through everything and evaluate what contains classified information and what doesn’t, and thus you quickly grasp a box of matches from the bedside table, place all of the papers in a pile in the fireplace and light them afire. You search the room and take every book, letter and document you find just to throw them in with the rest.

You could take them for yourself, but you know there’s always a risk that someone else will get their hands on them. It’s the safest to destroy everything.

Then, you grab a parchment paper from the desk and write a short message.

_Sirius,_

_Father is dead. He was assassinated, but not by the Czar or Admiral Zackly. I know you want to have revenge right away but stay put for now. If you ever had a sliver of trust in me, then summon it now. I will handle things here. Do not reignite the war, that is exactly what the people behind the assassination are hoping for._

_We do not want to play into their hands._

_We must not go back to war. I know how to handle things. I just need some time. Please trust me. I know what I’m doing._

_Cora_

You roll up the parchment, seal it with a royal stamp. You hurry to the balcony and whistle for your hawk.

Just as she flies off, the door is slammed open and Zeke pours in. Levi’s being held back by Reiner and four other guards.

Zeke’s eyes slide from you at the balcony door to the fireplace. For a second, he looks a little frustrated. That, however, is soon replaced with a chuckle.

“Smart girl. Seems like I was too late. Well, it matters not. Your brother should be at the borders asking for a fight in a day’s time.”

He walks up to you. His eyes flash, and he quite suddenly grabs your hair.

“This is your only warning. You will not be able to stop me, and you would do well not to try my patience.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Zeke Yeager,” you tell him with a low hiss. “You will not win.”

Zeke groans and he suddenly looks unnervingly affectionate. He buries his face into your neck, nuzzling against it.

“You’re driving me crazy, pet,” he chuckles. You flinch and try to shove him away, but his hold of you is too tight. Behind Zeke, Levi lets out a dangerous growl and starts futilely struggling against the guards.

You try to break free, but it’s no use as he tightens his fist in your hair and brings you in for a forceful kiss. Immediately, you sink your teeth into his lip to fend him off, the heel of your shoe jamming into his foot.

He pulls back with an amused glint to his eyes.

“You will learn obedience in due time. But by all means, struggle in my web until you’re exhausted. It’s more entertaining that way.”

He lets go of you and saunters to the door.

“I’m curious to see what your next move is, pet. Good night.”

With that, he leaves. His guards let go of Levi, who hurries to check on you. You recognise the possessive look in his eyes and seeing Zeke claim your lips has almost driven him insane.

You don’t hesitate this time. You want Zeke’s handprints off you and you need something to hold onto to keep yourself sane in this chaos.

You reel him in and kiss him deeply. You grab his hands and place them on your neck and hair, wordlessly asking him to replace the foreign scent as you open your mouth for his tongue.

Levi gives in immediately; the night has been too stressful for him to care about decency right now. He grabs your waist and pulls you in. His head tilts, his tongue plunges in your mouth to rub against yours.

The kiss is short and rapacious. You both know you’re not safe, and when Levi feels like his emotions are somewhat stable again as he’s reclaimed your body, he pulls back and grabs you.

This time, he hoists you bridal style and starts walking you back to your chambers.

You nuzzle your face into his chest and close your eyes for a brief moment of solace.

The world changed. Just like that. You will again need to grow and adapt at a merciless pace. The era has changed, and you need to fight tooth and nail to stay afloat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me rn:
> 
> So, this marks the end of Arc I of this story and we move on to Arc II, which will consist of chapters 16-29. Chapters 30-38 will be Arc III and 39-45 Arc IV. Hope you're ready for the ride ^^ Also, I'm so close to breaking 100,000 words! :D
> 
> Zeke's motives are a little clearer now, Historia's true motives are revealed, Reader lost her father just as she was about to form a real bond with him and now she has to try and convince her brother to cooperate and not re-ignite the war.
> 
> Also, time to plug stuff: Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SquibblesMcGoo) for shitposting, fic-related rambling and just random stuff. I also have a new multi-chapter that I've started recently. [The Prowling Game](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22237174/) is an 80s murder mystery featuring serial killer Levi who gives his guidance to our workaholic detective Reader in her struggle to crack a serial murder case. I wanted to try my hand at crafting a mystery fic with cryptic clues and scattered bread crumbs that the readers might pick up and follow to figure out the killer.
> 
> Anyway. Did you see the assassination of Daddy Reader coming? Did you enjoy the chapter? Did you catch that very subtle throwaway line in Chapter 1 as the place where Reader's seen the freckled girl before? Are you excited for Arc II or dreading it? Please let me know what you think. Comments are cherished and extremely appreciated, I'd love to stay connected with my readers, especially now that the whole world is more or less in isolation.
> 
> Until next time~


	16. Still Here

The hood is weighing you down heavily as you make your way down the narrow, tiled corridor. Levi’s leading the way, his rifle pulled out and pointed forward.

You nervously look at the heavy sack on Levi’s back. He shows no signs of discomfort as he carries it, only the torch in your hand offering you any kind of illumination.

The air is quiet and tense with nothing but the sound of your heels and his boots filling the space.

You’ve already lost your sense of time and space in the quiet, narrow and stuffy corridors. Who knows how many hours you’ve been traversing the suffocating darkness?

Rekanon Catacombs. An extensive and treacherous network of tunnels that connect the whole city in a maze. To Levi’s knowledge, no one has mapped the complex network.

Originally, it was built around three hundred years ago, initially just to establish an underground connection from the Rekanon Castle to the harbour in the case that the royal family needed to be evacuated due to a siege.

Then, little by little, it was expanded. By merchants, by local criminals who wished to move about undetected. More tunnels were dug and paved, some by officials, some by criminals or other peasants. For around a hundred years, the catacombs were in regular use. No one knew the whole maze, but most knew their way to one or two locations.

Then, the war with Novaryn started, the military took charge of most means of production, the country industrialised and suddenly, the most efficient way to move goods about was not through narrow and fragile underground mazes but through sturdy, wide and government-operated roads. Furthermore, most of the catacombs collapsed as a result of the introduction of the sewer system.

The catacombs were left to decay. Nowadays, they’re mostly collapsed, with just a few operational routes.

It’s the perfect place to hide a body. Even if someone knew you brought it here, searching every nook and cranny is an impossible mission as the catacombs are easily hundreds of kilometres in length.

More than one body has to be hidden here, you conclude. The air is stuffy, but at times you also smell something rotten.

“Levi, are you sure you can find the way back?”

“Yes.”

He’s focused and alert but not nervous or uncertain. He initially wanted to do this alone, but you insisted on going with him. Just so you can tell your father goodbye properly.

Finally, he concludes you’ve moved around enough to create a complex route to where you are right now. He stops as you arrive at a dead-end thanks to the tunnel collapsing. You had to squeeze by a few partially collapsed corridors, but this one is completely sealed.

“Alright, this is far enough. If we turn back now, we can make it before morning,” Levi says as he places the sack down. You nod as he stands back. You give his shoulder a small squeeze and smile at him as you walk past him and hand him the torch.

You push your hood off your head and kneel by the large sack.

You open it and shudder a little when your father’s lifeless head rolls out. His eyes are closed and he looks peaceful.

“May you ascend the Stairs to Salvation, Father,” you tell the body quietly. “We shall never meet again, for I am marked for Damnation. But I’m happy to call you my flesh and blood. I’m sorry I had to rob you of a worthy send-off. I hope you can understand.”

Tossed in a dusty catacomb stuffed in a sack, a scandalising way to treat a king’s remains.

“This is all my fault. I let you down, Father. Please forgive me. May the Creator watch over you.”

Your eyes soften and you suddenly feel like crying. The day before yesterday, the fateful wedding, it still feels like a dream.

You get back on your feet and pull your hood back on.

“I’m ready, Levi. Go ahead.”

Levi takes out a flask of oil. He sprinkles it all over your father’s body, especially his face, and uses the torch to light it afire.

It’s for the best. This way, if someone finds him, they can’t tell who it is. Plus, burning is a more honourable send-off than being left to mummify for all eternity in this dirty, stuffy catacomb.

You watch the flame for a moment, feeling deep guilt and regret. Yet, when you turn to Levi, you’ve wiped it all off your face.

This is not the time to cave under the weight of your sins. You need to keep your mind clear to stay in the game.

“Let us go.”

“Are you alright?” he asks, and you feel his dark eyes follow you closely as you grab the torch from him and turn to walk back.

“No,” you answer honestly. “I’m terrified. But I cannot succumb to that feeling. And things could be worse.”

You turn to give him a sad smile.

“I have you, Levi. I would have died ten times over without you. So long as you stay by my side, I do not feel completely alone.”

Levi gives you a long look. Then, he extends a hand to gently pat you on the head.

“Don’t worry, little miss. I’ll always be your shadow.”

You relish in the touch for a fleeting moment. He then pulls his hand away and starts leading the way back.

When you get back to the castle and slip through the small opening in the dungeons, the castle is just as quiet around you as it was upon your departure.

You sneak back to your room, change into your nightgown and slip under the covers. You close your eyes to catch a couple of rounds of sleep under Levi’s strict but loving watch.

-

“Your grace, a letter!”

“Sasha! Come in, please.”

You leap to your feet, eyes wide. Your heart starts pounding in your chest.

Routinely, you grab whatever fruit you happen to have on your desk and exchange it with Sasha for the letter.

She looks rougher than usual, there are a few twigs in her hair, her uniform is muddy and Maid Springer, who’s folding washed clothes by your wardrobe, gives her a few unhappy side-eyes.

“I was told to bring this to you as soon as possible, so I rode here without any rest. Connie’s still on the way with regular mail, he told me to go on ahead because I’m a faster rider,” Sasha says and salutes. You hand her a small, delicious-looking mountain apple.

She looks at the fruit, and her mouth starts to water.

“Thank you, your grace!”

You only have a brief smile to spare her as she exits, you’re too occupied with trying to open the letter with your hands shaking so much.

_Cora,_

_This news has deeply upset me. I was not prepared to take the throne at this time. I do not trust that the Czar and Darius Zackly have nothing to do with this, but I will hold off military operations for now, for your sake._

_I have requested the Czar for your presence in my coronation in a week’s time. Pack your dearest belongings in the most discreet manner possible and use this as a chance to come back home. I want you back in Novaryn before the war is due to resume._

_I know you want to protect this peace, but I cannot permit my father to die in their lands and not retaliate. It is time to give up and come back._

_I miss you. I pray for your safe return._

_Love,  
Sirius_

You read over the letter and sigh a little. Obviously, Sirius is not going to just listen to what you’re saying.

Levi, who read the letter over your shoulder, snorts.

“He still talks to you like you’re ten years old.”

“He is worried about me and has my best interests at heart. But he is sadly mistaken if he thinks I will just give up on this because he tells me to.”

Yesterday, you had a meeting with Darius Zackly and the Czar, both of whom denounced any connection to the assassination.

You believe them. The Czar, because he’s sacrificed so much to secure the peace. Admiral Zackly, because if he was involved, he would have covered his back better.

You knew better than accusing the Czarevich of murdering your father. You gave them your obedient, empty smile, nodded through it and then went back to your chambers to conduct a plan.

You fold the letter and throw it in the fireplace.

“Maid Springer, could you leave us for a moment?” you turn to her. It’s not that she hasn’t proven her loyalty. But the less she knows, the safer it is for her.

She nods, gathers the hem of her skirts and zooms out. You wait until Levi has closed the door after her before you speak up.

“I will be going to Novaryn to change my brother’s mind,” you decide. Levi frowns.

“Listen,” he starts heavily, but you raise your hand to stop him.

“I know what you want to say. You want me to go and stay there out of harm’s way,” you guess. He sighs.

“Things are going to get unpredictable from now on. It would be risky to stay here when the war could re-ignite at any moment.”

“Do you not trust me when I say I will stop that from happening?”

“This is not up to you alone. There are such big forces at play, trying to stop them alone is like standing in the way of a tidal wave.”

Your eyes flash with annoyance, but he’s walked up to you and cupped your face in his hands before you can lash out.

“I worry, little miss.”

“About what?”

“That I’ll lose what’s dearest to me.”

Your eyes soften at his words. You look at him with quiet gratitude and cup his jaw.

“If I go back to Novaryn, we will be separated. For good, most likely.”

“No.”

You blink at Levi’s words.

“Where you go, I go, little miss. I will follow you to Novaryn.”

Your eyes widen and you feel your cheeks flush at his words. Such raw honesty, you know it doesn’t come easy for Levi.

“Oh, Levi,” you breathe. “You would betray Varsiko for me?”

“I would.”

“Novaryn is not a kind country to those who have meddled with Alchemy.”

“That’s irrelevant.”

You smile at him and lean in until your foreheads are pressed together. Your arms easily loop around his neck.

“I love you,” you breathe and close your eyes. You feel his arm lock around your waist as he presses you against himself as if reminding you that you belong right here, with him.

Levi and Cora, the two of you are a unit, bound in both spirit and body. And there’s nothing in the world you’re afraid of facing, so long as he’s by your side.

You have half a mind to kiss him right here, but a stern knock on your door breaks you apart. Levi gives you one more meaningful look and walks back to his post.

You adjust your dress as Levi opens the door. Darius Zackly walks in, carrying his usual air of no-nonsense. He pauses in front of you and raises his chin.

“The King’s body has gone missing,” he announces without bothering with pleasantries, his eyes sheening with something resembling annoyance.

“Is that so?” you say, acting surprised. “Who could have taken it?”

“There’s no need to play dumb with me. You took it to free yourself of your obligations with the contract and avoid getting chipped.”

You have the decency to drop the act and the next look you give him is cool and collected.

“The contract you signed specifies that you are to receive a loyalty chip after the King of Novaryn has departed Varsiko. With his body gone and presumedly somewhere in the catacombs, he cannot _depart_ anymore.”

Yes. The reason you believe Darius Zackly was not involved in his assassination. If he was, he would have made the contract more watertight.

“How unfortunate,” you tell him blandly.

“Well, that is all. The slaves obviously cannot be retrieved since they have already been shipped out. I just came to announce that the contract, on your side, is hereby void.” He turns to leave, and you’re genuinely surprised.

“You are… Alright with this?” you ask. You were expecting him to insist on chipping you anyway and having to fight more to get out of this. “I would have assumed you would be more upset.”

“Losing the factories is a grave monetary loss,” he says. He pauses at the door and gives you a surprisingly neutral look. “However, I can hardly fault you for taking advantage of this. It’s what any skilled politician would do. If you can outsmart me, then I deserve to lose. But do not for a moment think that I don’t have my ways to keep this situation under control. Excuse me.”

He leaves just as speedily as he entered.

You look after him with a perplexed expression.

“I could almost like him,” you point out. Levi gives you an unimpressed look.

“All he was saying was that he would’ve stabbed you in the back as well if given the chance, so he can’t fault you for doing so.”

“That is unexpectedly fair of him.”

“He’s just an extreme realist.”

You walk up to Levi and rest your hands on his arms. You lean in and press your forehead against his shoulder. After all that’s happened the last two days, you’ve come to use him to ground yourself when you feel like you might get overwhelmed.

His scent and touch always calm you down.

“Levi, you can come to Novaryn with me, but I will go to stop the war and then come back.”

“Alright.”

He’s worried, but he doesn’t want to hold you back. He knows you could never live with yourself if you allowed this to happen.

You feel his hands come up to hold the back of your neck. His lips place on the top of your head in a small, affectionate gesture.

When you break away, you feel more determined.

“Alright. We have avoided the chip and my brother is not dropping the idea of vengeance yet, but we have the next best thing which is a way to talk to him. The next thing I need is to start securing my back. The more people I have on my side, the better my chances of survival.”

“Who do you have in mind?”

“Send a word out. Ask Eren and Historia to come to meet me today after dinner, please. I’m going to call their bluff.”

Come evening, when you hear the first knock on your door, you’re ready. You sit at your desk, legs crossed and leaning your head into your hand.

“Come in.”

Historia steps in, looking only a little uneasy. The moment she’s in, she turns her full attention to you.

“Cora, I’m so sorry for what happened with your father,” she starts, eyes wide. “And I’m sorry I haven’t visited lately. I’ve just been so incredibly busy with the marriage preparations, and-”

“It is quite alright. Do not worry about it.” You give her your trained smile. “Please, sit down.”

Historia paces to the couch and sits down. She eyes you warily.

“What did you wish to discuss? If there’s anything I can do to help…”

“Thank you for the sentiment. There is something you can do, but let us first wait for-”

Another knock on your door cuts you off. You smile a little.

“Good, he is here. Let him in, please,“ you tell Levi. Eren walks in, and the second they see each other, both of their eyes widen. For a precious second, they both look horrified.

Historia’s the first to regain her composure. She rips her eyes off Levi and instead turns them to you. With a clear of her throat, she futilely tries to feign ignorance.

“I’m surprised you invited the czarevich here as well,” she says. You gesture for Eren to take a seat next to Historia. He looks a bit lost for a while but eventually does as he’s told.

Though, you notice he purposefully sits at an acceptable distance. The sight makes you roll your eyes a little, but you ignore it.

“I invited you two here because I need your cooperation. I would like for you to tell me the whole story behind my assassination attempt.”

Eren makes a strange, choked sound and his eyes widen. Historia desperately tries to appeal to ignorance.

“Cora, I don’t know what you are talking about-”

“The czarevich tasked you with smoking me out of the castle before your wedding. You started sending me threatening letters, yet when I did not cave, you panicked and tasked my guard with killing me. You also made my fiancé treat me poorly, which he agreed to do because the two of you are personally involved,“ you list, a dull edge to your voice. You’re not going to coddle them.

Historia brings a hand to her mouth, shocked. Eren, like a child being reprimanded, casts his eyes down with a sullen expression.

“How- How did you-?”

“We followed Eren’s guard, who was the one who delivered those messages to me. I saw you two together and I heard a conversation where you admitted to it.”

Historia bites her lip, and suddenly she looks ready to cry.

“Cora, I… I don’t know how to apologise to you-”

“Then do not bother,” you disregard her. “What did the czarevich hold over your head to make you do that?”

“He promised me more say in Nambalese politics,” Historia murmurs. “I'm sorry, Cora. I didn’t want to do it, but my country… It’s dying. We’re on the verge of famine again. Even though Varsiko no longer needs wood and other raw materials since the war is over, they started taking our crops and game. Our lands and nature can’t take it much longer.”

Historia looks dejected, and you notice that Eren’s subtly reaching to touch her back.

“I initially turned him down, but my father sent me a letter begging me to do it. But I failed. Zeke punished me by allowing Darius Zackly to replace the Novarynian slaves with Nambalese ones to keep the factories running.”

At that, you have the decency to look a little guilty. You knew they would do that, but it still doesn’t mean the truth doesn’t sting.

Truth be told, you would have done the same were you in her shoes. If Zeke had hung the safety and prosperity of Novaryn over your head, you would probably have agreed to get rid of Historia for it.

It doesn’t mean you have forgiven her, but that you can understand her, at least a little.

“Alright, listen here, the both of you. I do not care what kind of relationship the two of you have. I’m not naïve enough to believe my fiancé will ever come to feel anything for me.”

Eren gives you a long, unreadable look.

“My first and foremost priority is to keep this war from re-igniting. And given the fact that should the war start all over again, Nambala will again be extorted for natural resources, you would do well to cooperate with me.”

Historia nods immediately.

“I’ll help you with anything I can. I'm sorry for everything I've done. Cora, I never wanted to be enemies,” she says and her eyes flicker down to her hands. She looks torn apart by what she’s done.

“I will not trust you, at least not right off the bat. But I’m willing to form an alliance since the both of us benefit from peace.”

“Are you going to ask her to spy for you?” Eren asks, and he looks wary. “Me, too? You want to know what’s going on with Zeke?”

“He will catch onto it if you go out of your way to snoop around. But if you find anything out naturally, I would appreciate it if you told me.”

“I will. I promise,” she murmurs. You notice Eren subtly takes her hand and squeezes it.

“Is there anything you know that you could share right now?” you ask. Historia looks uneasy, and you can instantly tell there’s something.

“Should I tell her?” she asks Eren. He ponders it over and finally shrugs.

“She might deserve to know.”

“What?” you ask and straighten your back on your chair. You exchange small glances with Levi.

“The woman who murdered your father. She’s Nambalese. Her name is Ymir.”

“Ymir?” you frown. That’s a name you’ve encountered more than once while reading _Song of Steel_.

“Not related to the founder of the Alchemist division. She grew up in a Nambalese orphanage, they’re run by Varsikovian officials and often, kids get named in a very nationalistic fashion. She’s far from the only Nambalese orphan named after Ymir,” Historia explains.

“What do you know about her?” You lean in, interested. Historia bites her lip, it’s clearly a sore subject for her.

“She’s… My former guard,” she admits. That catches your interest. You frown cross your legs.

“Your former guard?”

“Yes. She was switched under Zeke’s leadership on his request. He must have caught onto her talent for stealth missions.”

“And she just happily does his bidding?” you ask. Historia looks very uncomfortable.

“Zeke has ways to keep her under control.”

“Such as her princess’ well-being,” you suggest innocently. She gives you a tired kind of look. There’s something in her gaze that makes you re-evaluate the situation.

There’s something very vulnerable in the way her eyes flicker down and she squeezes Eren’s hand in hers.

“Wait, do not tell me- She is fond of you?” you ask.

“She was by my side for many years. She is loyal to me. And because of that, she agreed to do Zeke’s bidding, in exchange for his promise to treat me with dignity. I haven’t seen her or spoken to her in years, I knew she was doing some biddings in Novaryn. I never thought she would be tasked with killing the King. I didn’t know, Cora, I swear,” she says.

“I believe you,” you say easily. There would’ve been no incentive for Zeke to tell Historia about this.

You glance at Eren, and to your surprise, he looks tense and a little annoyed. Talking about Ymir seems to be bothering him for some reason.

And you can more or less guess why.

Ymir must have had feelings for Historia. To agree to go to such lengths to protect her. It would also explain why Historia feels so conflicted and why Eren is seemingly bothered.

You wonder if Historia ever returned those feelings, even for a fleeting moment, or if her affections have always been Eren’s.

Well, that’s none of your business.

“Do you know where she is?”

Historia shakes her head.

“She hasn’t contacted me in years, not since she started working for Zeke.”

“Do you know how to contact her?”

“No.”

You sigh thoughtfully. Well, you have a name now. You give Historia a small glance.

“If we ever catch her, she will lose her head for this,” you tell her. She nods. She knows. Her expression turns a little darker.

“It frustrates me. She will have to bear the brunt of it while Zeke goes scot-free. That vile man, and now he’s bound to me.”

She looks genuinely furious and you can see why. It’s not like Ymir murdered your father because she wanted to. She was forced to because the crown princess of Nambala is currently at the mercy of Varsiko.

You turn your eyes to Eren, who’s looking a little stony. His hand, however, remains on Historia’s to give his wordless support.

“Do you know anything about the Czarevich’s plans?”

He shakes his head.

“It’s not like Zeke and I talk a lot.”

You suppose it’s true, you’ve never seen the two of them talk to each other. Zeke’s marriage to Historia has to put some strain on their relationship as well.

You nod and get up.

“Alright. I think this is enough for today. If you find out anything, please do not hesitate to tell me. We all benefit from maintaining the peace between Varsiko and Novaryn, so let us try to cooperate to do just that.”

Historia walks to the door but pauses before leaving just to turn to you with fragile, expressive eyes.

“Cora, I… I really am sorry. I would have loved to be your friend. I did something so cowardly. I don’t know how I can ever make up for it.”

“You have apologised twice already. At this point, you’re just doing it because you want to feel better about yourself,” Levi cuts in with an annoyed huff.

“Levi, leave it,” you sigh. You give Historia a stiff smile.

“I cannot say I have forgiven you, nor can I promise I ever will. But if you want to make up for trying to kill me, then be sure to tell me if you find out anything about the Czarevich and his plans.”

She nods and leaves. Eren hangs back for a little while to avoid having the two of them seen together.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a couple of seconds of tense silence. “About your father. I hope things will work out.”

“Thank you.”

He sighs and scratches his head with a bothered expression.

“I don’t want us to go into marriage hating each other. You know what my deal is, it’s never going to be a marriage of love, but the least I can do is be amicable. Are you alright with that?”

“Yes, that would save us some headaches,” you agree.

Eren walks to the door, and just as he opens it, someone lets herself in.

“Good evening!”

You blink at Hange. She strides in with a huge smile.

You can’t help but notice that Levi suddenly stiffens. His eyes widen and for a second, he looks genuinely horrified.

“Oh, your grace,” Hange notices Eren. “Armin was looking for you.“

Eren nods and gives you one last glance before exiting. Outside, you can see Mikasa waiting for him, stoic as always.

You only spare her a glance before turning your attention back to Levi, who glares at Hange, as if to warn her against saying something unnecessary.

“I just got word from Darius Zackly that you won’t be chipped after all,” Hange announces. She walks to you and gives your shoulder a friendly pat.

“Thank God, I was not looking forward to having to chip a Monarch,” she sighs and shakes her head. She gives Levi a subtle glance as if to reassure him of something.

“Were you tasked with it?” you ask. Hange laughs.

“I’m the head of the Wing of Science. As if they’d let anyone else near a royal,” she snorts. She gives you a small smile.

“But really, I’m glad you didn’t go through with it. That’s all I came to tell you. Drop by someday, I’ll show you more of my experiments. Do you want me to teach you more about Alchemy still?”

“Actually, yes,” you nod. “I would like to learn more.”

“Then drop by tomorrow. It’s a rare event, we’re performing an augmentation!”

You could swear you see her start salivating a little at the thought of putting her latest inventions into some poor sucker.

“I-I can come to see it?” you ask, taken aback. Hange grins.

“Sure can. It’s Armin’s first. The poor boy is so nervous he hasn’t been able to eat anything all day. We start four rounds after breakfast. Come see it if you’re interested.”

“I shall,” you nod. You glance at Levi, who’s giving Hange a small glare. She ignores it and skips back to the door.

“Great, I’ll see you tomorrow!”

You wait until the door closes before turning to Levi.

“What is it with you and her?” you demand and cross your arms. Levi settles on a stubborn mask.

“What do you mean?”

“You looked at her like you were afraid she would talk too much.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Levi, are you keeping something from me?”

He sighs and massages his temple. Then, he gives you a resigned look.

“Fine, yes. But I don’t want to talk about it. You know I’d never keep anything vital from you. This, I want to keep between me and her. Please,” he adds through gritted teeth.

You give him a curious look but nod, nonetheless. Your guard or not, he’s still entitled to his privacy. You walk up to him.

“Are you alright with me seeing the augmentation tomorrow? Would it be opening old wounds for you?”

“Little miss, I’ve seen my fair share of augmentations. Maybe it’s good you see the bullet you dodged.”

You nod. He grasps your neck in his hand. His eyes soften just the tiniest bit.

“I’m glad you’re still here, little miss.”

When he pulls you in, you easily fall into his loving embrace.

-

_Sitting by her desk, her glasses resting on her nose with a tall stack of papers in front of her, nothing breaks Hange’s concentration as she reads through the texts. The night is deep and quiet around her as she shuffles through the paper, her hand straying to grab her tea mug now and then to take a sip._

_In her military wear still, she’s had a long day of research behind her. Despite that, she keeps working._

_When there’s a knock on the door of her dim, messy office, she rips her eyes off the papers with a confused frown. There’s no one supposed to be here at this hour._

_“Who is it?”_

_“It’s me.”_

_Hange’s frown turns even more perplexed. She slowly gets on her feet and saunters to the door. When she opens it, she sees Levi and immediately lets him in._

_She can tell it from his stiff, pained face; something’s going on._

_“What brings you here?” she asks. She walks to the small stovetop she has in the corner of her office, something Moblit arranged for her just to quench her constant appetite for tea._

_“Care for a cup?” she asks harmlessly with a small smile. Levi nods and sits down at the small table next to the stovetop. Hange spends so much time in her office that Moblit has arranged it to be a small apartment unit._

_Sometimes, she even sleeps on the small couch instead of going to her bedroom._

_Hange allows Levi to gather his thoughts in silence while she prepares his cup. She slides the steaming clay mug in front of him, walks to her desk to grab her half-finished one and slides in the seat across from Levi._

_“So? What happened?” she asks and leans her chin in her hand with a wry smile._

_Levi clears his throat with a frown. Then, he raises his eyes to meet Hange’s, raising the teacup to his mouth._

_“I need a favour,” he announces. Hange’s eyebrows shoot up to her forehead. She and Levi have known each other for a long time, but he’s never asked her for anything. Hell, it’s the first time he’s even come to meet her voluntarily like this._

_“What kind of favour?” she asks._

_“The little miss has lost her mind. She struck a deal with Darius Zackly and will get chipped after the King’s visit.”_

_Hange looks a little surprised at that._

_“That’s not a deal she could have walked into lightly.”_

_“She did. That reckless girl, she wouldn’t listen to me,” Levi grunts and slams the cup back down. He shakes his head with a deep sigh._

_“She’s not going to change her mind. I just know it, I know her.”_

_“Uh-huh,” Hange agrees, though she’s starting to look a little wary. “So, what do you want from me?”_

_“Hange, I have never asked you for anything. They’re going to have you do it because you’re the head of the Wing and most experienced. I’ll give you whatever you want. Experiment on my augmentations, add half-finished enhancements you want to try out, dissect me alive, I don’t care what you do to me.”_

_“Levi…” Hange’s voice is a clear warning, but Levi doesn’t listen. He gets up just to drop down on his knees and press his forehead to the ground._

_“Hange, I beg you. Don’t chip her. Install a decoy.”_

_“Levi, do you know what you’re asking me to do? You’re telling me to commit treason for you,” Hange points out._

_“I know,” Levi breathes through his teeth. He keeps his head down. “I know what I’m asking is far more than I have any right to, but I beg you. Don’t let her get this cursed piece of metal.”_

_Hange sighs and tilts her head, looking at Levi. Never in a million years would she have thought she’d ever see this man like this, vulnerable and on his knees._

_“You’ve fallen deep, haven’t you?” she remarks. “What happened, Levi? I thought you knew better than this.”_

_“Please,” Levi breaths. Hange huffs._

_“Get up, Levi. This doesn’t suit you.”_

_“I won’t until you promise,” he says. The corner of Hange’s eye twitches in annoyance._

_“You do know I will be in deep trouble if anyone ever finds out, don’t you?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“No amount of experimenting with you would be worth that.”_

_“I know.”_

_Hange looks at Levi for a long while. She’s never seen him this frantic. Finally, she sighs._

_“Get up, Levi. I promise to think about it. That’s the best I can do right now. This isn’t a light thing for me, either.”_

_Levi realises he can’t do anything more and thus, he obeys. _

_When he leaves the room a couple of minutes later, Hange watches after him with an unreadable expression._

_“Love sure is scary,” she sighs and walks back to her desk. She resumes work, but Levi’s plea never leaves her mind._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, Levi. He's really such a cinnamon roll in this chapter, even I want to give him a hug. Even though I'm the one who's writing him. Is that narcissistic? Lol
> 
> Also, you may have noticed, but I actually retroactively added chapter names. I kind of regretted not giving them names around five chapters in and then finally today decided to just name them afterwards. So chapters will be named from here on out ^^
> 
> Quarantine is hard and the connections I have with my audience are really important to me right now. I hope you're all safe and healthy and that I can brighten at least someone's day with my writing. If you have a spare moment, I would love to hear from you guys, I always love comments but even more so now that we're all more or less isolated. Are you here for our precious steely boi Levi? Let me know! ^^
> 
> Love you all,  
Rika


	17. The Bag of Tea

Levi jolts awake to the sound of your footsteps, moving from the bed towards the desk. He opens his eyes to see you skulking like a cat, tiptoeing while trying not to wake him up.

He gives you a long, quiet look before sighing to himself. The night is still dark around you and the castle is quiet.

“Little miss,” he calls, and you twitch.

With a guilty wince, you turn to him. You should have known you can’t slip out of bed undetected. Levi, even when he sleeps, has such inhuman hearing abilities that he would wake up to less than your light steps.

“What do you think you’re doing? It’s still night-time.”

“I cannot sleep,” you confess sheepishly and adjust the hem of your nightgown. “So, I was thinking of doing some reading.”

The past few days, you’ve done nothing but studied the war between Varsiko and Novaryn. If you want to as much as have a shot in the million to stop the impending war, you first need to understand it.

And the more you dive into it, the more complex everything has become. Novaryn started the war, but they were constantly provoked by Varsiko by excursions to Novarynian monasteries to steal sacred texts about Alchemy.

Varsiko toed the line, but Novaryn’s all-out invasion which they launched in response was anything but appropriately proportioned, considering they killed almost five per cent of Varsiko’s population in half a year.

Despite Novaryn’s disproportionate way of responding to the provocations, Varsiko’s way of abducting civilians for human testing on alchemical research and to run their factories was still widely unethical.

An action and a disproportionate reaction to it, the endless cycle that you’re now trying to stop. You don’t know who’s in the wrong. Hell, the crimes conducted by both are so egregious that at times, you have to stop reading just to let out a long, frustrated sigh.

Sometimes, you wonder if both should burn to the ground. Maybe whatever is born from the ashes would be better than this.

Those thoughts, however, can wait while you deal with the most pressing issue: your overprotective guard.

Levi clicks his tongue, unimpressed, and walks to stand between you and the desk.

“Bed. Now.”

“You are not my daddy, you do not command me,” you argue and cross your arms.

“I hardly care. Get back in bed and sleep,” he orders. “You can keep studying in the morning.“

“I will merely lie in bed, bored, if I do. It is much better to use this time to my advantage.”

You’re set to go back to Novaryn the day after tomorrow and the nearer the date becomes, the less prepared you feel.

Thus, you give Levi a frustrated glare and stand your ground.

“I need to be prepared. Let me study.”

“No.”

“I am your princess,” you remind him. Levi rolls his eyes and ignores you. He steps closer.

“Go to bed, kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” you argue, rather childishly at that, and cock your head up at the raised eyebrow you get in response.

“Either you get in that bed or I’ll get you in that bed. Your choice.”

At that, the corner of your mouth quirks up. Immediately, you feel a little bit riled up. Tilting your head, you step closer.

“Why do you not take me to bed, then?” you ask, and your eyes turn so blatantly seductive Levi blinks with a taken aback expression.

You haven’t had sex since that fateful day and even then, what fanned the flames was the desperation. You both thought it was the only chance you’d get to do it while you were still yourself.

The thought has crossed your mind, you’ve wondered if Levi will never touch you again now that the crisis with the chip has been averted.

Levi breaks the eye contact and for a moment, he looks almost awkward. For all his affectionate gestures and attentiveness, he hasn’t actually touched you or kissed you since your father’s death.

“Little miss, stop that,” he sighs and crosses his arms.

“Why?” you inquire.

“You know better than trying to initiate something of that nature with me.”

He meets your eyes again, and he looks a little torn. Your stomach sinks, and you wonder what’s going through Levi’s head.

“Do you not want me anymore?” you ask, and the tone of your voice betrays you. Levi immediately catches onto the tiny sliver of insecurity seeping through, and in a second, his face turns from conflicted to unimpressed.

He promptly walks to you and flicks your forehead.

“Don’t be an idiot,” he scolds before you can give the thought too much leeway. He gently picks you up in his arms and carries you back to bed.

Having lost your will to fight him on this, you merely lean your head on his shoulder.

“I would do it with you again, Levi,” you say quietly. Levi places you down on the mattress and pulls the covers back over your body.

“I know.”

“Will you never lay with me again?” you ask, peeking at him from under the covers. He contemplates for a moment but eventually sits down on the edge of your bed.

“It’s too risky,” he explains, staring into his knees. “I should have known better back then.”

“You mean if I ended up carrying your child?”

He nods. You sigh and sit up.

“You did not finish inside me.”

“That’s still not completely foolproof. If you end up with my child, it’s enough to make all your plans crumble. You’ll lose your status and be exiled.”

“It is a risk,” you admit. “But I’m willing to take it. Even if I get pregnant, only Eren would know it is not his. And I doubt he would do anything about it.”

“I don’t think it’s worth risking,” Levi says, and he sounds resolute, a little cold even.

You move to sit on your knees next to him and watch his dark face.

“I will not push the issue if you do not want it, but you are worth the risk. To me, you are worth everything,” you say with a quiet voice.

“Don’t be absurd, I’m but a lowly hound,” Levi clicks his tongue, but you shake your head and determinedly grab his head to turn it so that he’s facing you.

“You are not a lowly hound. You are the man I love,” you say and comb his hair back so you can kiss his forehead. He closes his eyes for a brief moment before gently detangling your hands from him and pushing you back on your back.

“Sleep, little miss.”

-

It’s two days before you’re set to depart when you suddenly get the word that you’re expected to attend a meeting with the Czar and Darius Zackly. It’s not too hard to guess what it’s about; they must want to discuss Sirius’ coronation and your attendance.

Thus, Maid Springer makes you presentable after lunchtime, and you’re escorted to the negotiation room. Levi stays outside as he did with the previous negotiations with your father.

Your head is held high and your eyes are clear as you step in. You’ve learned to carry yourself with a certain aura of dignity, giving the impression of someone who can’t be walked over that easily.

You pause at the door to look over the people at the negotiation table.

You’re not surprised when you see Zeke, sitting next to his father and flashing you one of his infuriatingly cheerful smiles. Next to Darius Zackly, you see a man you’ve never met before.

He looks to be in his late thirties, with a neatly groomed head of blonde hair. He wears the grey military uniform all Wings do, but on the back of his is the alchemical symbol for steel.

He’s from the Wing of Offence.

“Ah, Cora, we were waiting for you,” the Czar greets you with a well-tempered smile. “Please, sit.”

He offers you a seat next to Zeke. You smile and curtsey appropriately, but when you sit down, you make sure you don’t grace Zeke with as much as a glance.

Darius Zackly stands up, his eyes glued to the thick stack of papers in his hands.

“Now that we’re all here, I declare this meeting started. People present: Admiral Darius Zackly, Leader of the Sovereign Army of the Czardom of Varsiko, Commander Erwin Smith, Leader of the Wing of Offence, Czar Grisha Yeager of the Czardom of Varsiko, First Czarevich Zeke Yeager, Heir Apparent of the Czardom of Varsiko and Princess Cora Reader, 13th Heir for the Royal Throne of Novaryn and Czarevna of Varsiko.”

Your curious eyes move to the blonde man. Erwin Smith. You’ve read about him in your textbooks. He leads the Wing of Offence and thus, was at the forefront of the war. Though, compared to his predecessors he’s known for having a lot less aggressive policies.

Czar Yeager campaigned heavily for Commander Smith to take the lead once the previous commander was killed in action, in preparation for the peace negotiations.

As far as you know, Commander Smith is in favour of peace.

“The issue we’ll be discussing today concerns the Czarevna’s upcoming visit to Novaryn. The Czar and Commander Smith have both expressed concern over potential defection over to Novaryn in order to take refuge from potential armed conflict,” Admiral Zackly reads dully.

Well, it’s not like you can fault them for that. Furthermore, that’s exactly what your brother proposed.

“Commander Smith.”

The blonde man speaks up as Admiral Zackly sits down. He looks at you, his blue eyes calm and clear.

“The possibility of placing the Czarevna on house arrest to prevent her from leaving has been discussed,” he states. You can’t help but note that his voice carries a pleasant timbre to it.

It’s not a surprise. You were actually rather puzzled they’ve made so little hassle about your visit up until now. They must have postponed this meeting so that Sirius has no time to take corrective action if they prevent you for attending his coronation.

“Are you planning to defect?” Commander Smith asks you, and his straightforward question catches you off guard.

“No,” you answer honestly. His eyes narrow a little as he figures you out.

“Why not? It would be the smartest move. Once the war resumes, you’d effectively be a hostage.”

He doesn’t seem to doubt your answer at all, a fact that confuses you a little.

“Because I have no intention of letting the war resume,” you say. You have no reason to lie. “I’m going back to Novaryn to change my brother’s mind.”

“Do you think you can do that?” Admiral Zackly asks and gives you a short look over his glasses.

“Our relationship is good. He will at the very least hear what I have to say.”

“That doesn’t mean he’ll heed your advice,“ Commander Smith points out. You nod.

“I know. Nonetheless, I intend to try, and should things go awry, I will still return.”

“He can forcefully keep you from leaving,” Zeke drawls next to you. “He’s the king now, he can do whatever he wants.”

“He is not the type of person to do that.”

“Letting you come back to Varsiko would be a big liability. It would be dumb of him to allow that,” Zeke argues. “What kind of King would voluntarily send his dearest little sister to be a hostage?”

“The kind who sees his little sister as a human being with a mind of her own,” you reply and give Zeke a look that’s firmly on the glacial side.

But even then, you know he has a point. Sirius has not exactly treated you as someone capable of making her own decisions and should you fail to convince him to call off the war, you’re not at all sure he’ll let you do as you please.

But you know better than telling that to Admiral Zackly. He would place you in house arrest if he saw more merits in keeping you here as a hostage than having you attempt to uphold the peace.

“Well, our intel has asserted that he has a soft spot for you. But whether that soft spot would lead him to have it your way or to forcefully keep you out of harm’s way is impossible to tell,” Admiral Zackly sums up.

“Either way, should you go, a new guard will be appointed to you for the duration of the trip.”

At that, you pause to give Czar Yeager a long, confused look.

“A new guard? Why?”

“Levi is augmented. We simply cannot risk them capturing him to inspect our technology,” Commander Smith explains.

Your eyes harden and you straighten your back, preparing for a lengthy, draining negotiation.

“I’m afraid I must insist he comes with me. He is the only Varsikovian guard who has earned my trust.”

“We have plenty of capable guards here, you can pick whoever you want, so long as they’re not augmented,” the Czar attempts to mediate, but you’re unyielding.

“I was almost murdered by my guard, your grace,” you remind him. “I think I’m not unreasonable in requesting I may choose to keep my guard.”

“An unfortunate incident, but I can assure you we will do a thorough background check on the guard of your choosing.”

“Well, that is secondary for now,” Admiral Zackly cuts in. “As of now, it’s uncertain whether you can do anything to stop the war. The new king is understandably upset, and the fact that we cannot as much as offer his father’s remains for burial has made him even angrier.”

“I’m confident that I can make him stand down,” you bluff. “And it is in your best interest to avoid this conflict, correct?”

“More or less. We have the manpower and materials to resume warfare at a moment’s notice, but it looks like the little taste of peaceful living has won the civilians over. Most people seem to be in favour of peace,” Commander Smith explains.

You think back to that elderly shopkeeper Levi killed. You have no doubt the scars of the war are still there, but that doesn’t mean most people won’t prefer not losing any more loved ones.

“I can change his mind,” you state again. Admiral Zackly looks openly sceptical.

“Well, we have no heard what the Czarevna has to say. A vote is in order,” he announces. “You will not vote,” he adds while looking at you.

Commander Smith leans in, his eyes relatively friendly, a little curious even.

“So, you say you can stop the war. Do you truly mean that?” he asks, and suddenly his eyes are piercing. You immediately know he will be able to tell if you lie.

Despite that, you steel your face.

“Yes.”

Commander Smith examines your resolve for a moment.

“Alright then.”

He nods and leans back. You swallow. He saw through you, he must’ve. Despite that, you keep your nerves off your face and instead focus on Admiral Zackly.

“Those in favour of permitting the Czarevna’s visit raise your hands,” Admiral Zackly says. The Czar raises his hand, as does Zeke and to your surprise, Commander Smith.

Admiral Zackly quickly counts the votes.

“Three in favour, one against. The Czarevna is hereby permitted the visit.”

“Thank you,” you say, looking at both the Czar and Commander Smith in turns. You make a point of not looking at Zeke. You have no doubt he has his reasons to let you leave.

“Alright. I believe this is all.” Admiral Zackly gets ready to leave, but you quickly step in.

“I can point out where my father’s remains are,” you tell him. At that, the Czar makes a hitched voice and turns to you with wide, scandalised eyes.

“Cora, whatever do you mean? Do you- do you know where he is?”

“I do.”

Your calm eyes meet Darius Zackly’s. He’s paused where he was moving to his feet and after contemplating briefly, he sits back down. Commander Erwin doesn’t seem all that surprised, though his eyes are alert where he looks at you.

“I suggest we retrieve him, give him a proper cremation and deliver his ashes back in a manner becoming of a king of our faith.”

“Very well, then. I take it your terms to revealing the location is that the contract will not be enforced either way.”

“What contract?”

“That is between myself and Admiral Zackly, your grace.”

The Czar looks between you and Darius Zackly, rather helplessly at that. Zeke’s eyes, on the other hand, are filled with obvious mirth. He’s amused.

“Yes, I want your word that the contract not be enforced even if I reveal his location. Well, that and another condition.”

“Which is?”

“You let me keep my guard on my visit to Novaryn.”

Admiral Zackly thinks it over for a dozen seconds. You can almost see the machine-like workings of his brain, weighing the pros and cons carefully.

“Alright,” he finally gives in. “On the condition that the Czar gives him an order to self-terminate should he feel like the confidentiality of his augmentations is at risk.”

It’s hard to keep the knee-jerk reaction off your face. Your stomach sinks and you suddenly feel cold.

“Alright.” The Czar sounds reluctant, but he doesn’t seem to have the motivation to go against Admiral Zackly.

“I will discuss this with him,” you hastily cut in. “Should he wish to stay behind, I will allow that. It is his life on the line after all.”

You don’t want to do anything that would even remotely put Levi’s life at risk. You’d rather travel alone.

“Very well, if you insist. Please let me know by tonight whether he will be leaving with you,” Darius Zackly says.

As he deftly walks out of the room, you start thinking of what to do with Levi. It’s obvious to you he’ll insist on accompanying you no matter what. But the thought of him having such a heavy order on his chip makes you hesitate.

You do think you have a shot at stopping the war and keeping Levi from harm’s way, but there’s too much at stake. All Levi would need is the threat of being imprisoned, and he’d have to eliminate himself.

You don’t like it.

And the more you think about it, the more you conclude you need to keep him in the dark about this. He wouldn’t care even if he had to risk his life.

His anguished face when he referred to himself as your hound flashes in your mind. You need to protect him. He would agree to Admiral Zackly’s demands, not only because he loves you and wants to protect you, but because he thinks he’s expendable.

As you step outside the negotiation room into the familiar, monotone corridors, Levi’s waiting for you with the other guards.

“Ah. Levi.”

At the sound of Commander Smith’s voice, you turn. He walks up to Levi, who gives him a relaxed salute.

“Erwin. Still alive and kicking I see,” he hums with a small smirk.

“Just barely,” Commander Smith replies in a dryly playful way. “I hear you’re getting used to the comfortable castle life. Haven’t gotten a letter from you in ages demanding to be let back in the field.”

“Yeah.” Levi makes no move to explain himself to his commander. Immediately, you can tell these two have a history. You could almost think that Levi thinks of Commander Smith as a friend.

You watch the two converse, tones light and small smiles on both of their faces. You stay out of the conversation, you wouldn’t know what to say. Half of their topics concern people you’ve never met or incidents you were unaware of.

It’s odd seeing Levi act so friendly with anyone. Whereas Hange is friendly and familiar with Levi, he does not repay her kindness in any way. Commander Smith, however, seems like someone Levi genuinely likes.

It also gives Levi a small edge of humanity he’s been missing. As your guard, he’s been focusing on you and you alone, and as a result, you’ve subconsciously concluded he must not have anything else in his life.

Seeing him converse with Commander Smith tells you that he had a life he left behind when he came to the castle. Comrades he joked with, events that he looks back to with that smirk.

You never asked and he never told.

Partially, you never asked about his days in the military because you knew you wouldn’t like it. The training, from what you’ve gathered, is brutal. Varsikovian forces regularly commit war crimes.

You’re afraid of what you’d find out.

The other part never asked because you had a feeling Levi wouldn’t tell you. He doesn’t like talking about himself. Previously, you thought it’s because he’s so private. Now, however, you’re wondering if it’s also because he views himself as your subordinate.

As much as he loves you, he’s still your guard. He views himself as nothing but a soldier for Varsiko to use. Your loyal hound.

You wonder how many years it took for Levi to talk to Commander Smith this relaxed. How long did he approach their relations with the curt honesty he gives you?

You’re glad Levi has someone to be this friendly with. Yet, it also makes you feel a bit blue. You’ve never seen this side of him.

“Well, Mike’s always been very sensitive to odours, so naturally he’d catch onto the fact that they were trying to feed him horse liver as a prank,” Commander Smith summarises the story he was telling Levi.

Levi snorts.

“His nose is as creepy as ever.”

“Either way. Duty calls. Good luck with the visit, your grace,” Commander Smith addresses you briefly before turning back to Levi.

“You should at least visit sometime. Your unit misses you. Lieutenant Ral asked me to give you this.”

Commander Smith hands Levi a letter along with a small paper bag. Levi opens the bag, and his eyes flash with obvious glee.

“Tea?” Commander Smith makes an educated guess, arching a well-meaning eyebrow. “Well, she did mention her days are a lot emptier now that she’s not making you tea seven times a day.”

You wouldn’t have thought much of it, but the way Levi’s eyes flicker to you, suddenly looking just the tiniest bit worried, makes you catch interest.

Despite that, you remain quiet as you walk back to your quarters.

Petra Ral. You know Varsiko’s army, unlike Novaryn’s, consists of not only male soldiers. There are quite a few women who have climbed to leadership positions, such as Hange Zoë. With a smaller population and a war to address, the army recruited whoever was interested in joining. They couldn’t afford not to.

So, it’s not a surprise Levi has at least one woman working under him. Levi’s expression, however, plagues you.

All kinds of scenarios fill your head as you quietly make your way back.

As you walk in, you quickly call for Maid Springer and ask her to prepare Levi some hot water. If he misses tea so dearly, you’ll make sure he gets his fill from now on.

Maid Springer brews Levi a cup of tea, albeit not without quietly muttering to herself about how her duty is to look after you, not the _“boorish brute”_.

Levi takes the cup without a word and waits until Maid Springer has left. He must’ve caught on to your puzzled mood.

“Not that it matters, but I don’t want you getting the wrong idea,” he starts with a calm, steady voice. “Petra Ral is a Lieutenant of my unit. She confessed her affections for me a few years back and I turned her down. That’s all that’s ever transpired between us.”

You sit down at your desk and watch him. He takes a sip of the tea, and you know him well enough to tell he’s trying his hardest not to look as satiated as he does.

“Why are you telling me this?” you ask and cross your legs.

“Because you looked like you’d come to weird conclusions on your own,” comes his steady response.

“Did you contemplate marrying her?”

At that, Levi pauses.

You smile a little.

“You did, did you not?”

Levi looks bothered as he thinks it over.

“Yes,” he finally confesses with a sigh. “I did contemplate it.”

“Why?” You lean your head into your hand and watch him with well-meaning eyes. You’re curious to hear about it.

“People in Varsiko are generally expected to marry and reproduce. How else would the army meet their recruitment quotas?”

“So, that is why? You did not feel anything for her?”

“I didn’t dislike her. She would’ve made a good wife. But no, I wasn’t in love with her.”

“Why did you turn her down, then?”

“Because I detest the thought of marriage. I don’t want to be tied to one person.”

“There go my plans of eloping,” you hum with pretend disappointment. You get on your feet and start making your way towards the bathroom. You need to freshen up before dinner.

“You’re not upset?”

You turn and blink at him. He looks wary as if he’s afraid you’ll blow up on him at any second. You walk up to him and cock your head to the side.

“Upset? About what?”

“About her.”

“Levi,” you can’t help but laugh. “You are a man in your thirties. It would be odd if you had no history with women. She could be your former lover and it would make perfect sense.”

“She’s not,” he feels the need to clarify.

“You love me, do you not?”

Levi makes a sour face. Aside from the rare moments he treats you tenderly, he hates this subject. Or any subject that lands in close vicinity to his feelings.

“Yes.”

“More than her?”

“Obviously.”

“Then there is nothing to be upset by,” you shrug and reach a hand to pet his head. He bats your hand away and gives you an unimpressed look.

“Stop treating me like a kid,” he grunts. You smile at him, ready to move on from the subject.

“How long have you known Commander Smith?”

“Around ten years. We joined at the same time.”

“He climbed the ladder fast, then,” you remark.

“He’s a natural leader, the Admiral realised it too. Not promoting him would’ve been dumb.”

You hum and gently place your hands on his arms. You move in and press your forehead against his in a brief, affectionate gesture.

“Levi,” you then start as you pull back. You eye him apprehensively. Immediately, he catches on and narrows his eyes.

“What?”

“You cannot come to Novaryn with me.”

“Don’t care, I’m coming,” he announces without missing a beat.

“Admiral Zackly said that-”

“I don’t care what that old fart has to say, I’m not going to let you go back to that vile place-”

“That _‘vile place’_ is my home,” you point out with a small roll of your eyes. “I will fare just fine on my own. What if they imprison you to study your augmentations-?”

“I doubt they’ll find out anything they don’t already know,” Levi points out dryly.

“This was not my decision, but the Admiral’s. You cannot go against him.”

“Then I’ll go talk to him,” Levi decides. As he moves for the door, you quickly grab his arm. You wince, knowing you’re cornered. Levi only needs to talk to Admiral Zackly and he’ll find out about the deal you struck.

You breathe through your teeth, a little frustrated.

“Fine, I tried to strike a deal to allow you to come, but Admiral Zackly said he will only allow it if the Czar gives you an order to self-terminate in the case you feel like you might be at risk of being used for intel,” you confess with a guilty look.

“And?” Levi crosses his arms and tilts his head up. “Why didn’t you tell me right away?”

“Because I do not think you should come if that is what you need to do.”

“His terms sound completely reasonable to me.”

“I do not want you to die, Levi,” you frown. “I would try my best to keep you safe, but I cannot guarantee they will not do anything to you. If not imprison, they might try to interrogate you.”

“I’m not going to let you go to Novaryn alone. That, I’ve already decided. There’s nothing you can do to change my mind,” Levi tells you bluntly.

“And if you get imprisoned and trigger the command?”

“Then I’ll die,” he shrugs with cutting nonchalance. “I’m a soldier, my life has always been expendable.”

“You are _not_ expendable to me. If you die, then what?!” you shriek at him. “Then I will be left to fare all by myself. You are the only person in this castle I trust with my life. You are my partner, my shadow and the man that I love. There is nothing that would bring me more pain than seeing you die.”

You cup his cheek, your eyes desperate as you search his. He doesn’t falter.

“Then, protect me.”

“What?”

“You trust me with your life. I trust you with mine. If you don’t want me to die, then protect me. It’s all politics at the end of the day. I trust you can keep me from harm’s way.”

“Oh, Levi, were it that simple, but-”

“Little miss,” Levi cuts you off and places his thumb over your lips. “I’m telling you I trust you won’t let me get caught and cut open, no matter what. That means the command won’t trigger.”

Slowly, you put together what Levi is telling you.

“So you are saying, you trust my abilities to keep you out of harm’s way so much that even if there is a threat of being imprisoned, the command will not trigger because no matter what, you believe that I will stop that from happening?” you recap with a frown.

“Yes. You will not let me get captured and cut open, right?”

“Of course, I would not let that happen if there was anything I could do to-”

“Then, I’ll believe in you. No matter what, I’ll believe in you,” he says. To him, it’s so simple but to you, the thought that he would so easily place his life in your hands and believe in your abilities when you’re only just starting to find your footing…

“Oh, Levi.” Your eyes soften and you wrap your arms around his neck. You reel him in, your impatient lips find his, and for a moment, you allow yourself to relish in his touch.

He places a gentle hand on your cheek and gently tilts your head, his tongue brushes over your front teeth once and then, he pulls back.

His eyes are clear when your gazes meet. He doesn’t hesitate at all.

“Are you sure?” you can’t help but reassure one last time. He plops his hand on your hair and ruffles your royal curls into a mess.

“Yes.”

When dinnertime comes, you inform the Czar that Levi will be accompanying you. Levi visits the Czar briefly and when he comes back, he shows no signs of regret.

He trusts you.

You can only pray that trust will not be his downfall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> No, I'm not dead and no, I haven't given up on my fics. As it happens, I'm graduating this spring and because of that, I needed to crunch out the last of my studies so I have everything I need to graduate :) Because of that, I took a month off from writing to focus on school. Now, however, I will be on vacation until June so hopefully, I'll be very productive this month ^^ I was done with school at the end of April already, but I needed a few days to sleep and do nothing to recharge. Now, however, I'm feeling motivated to continue my fics.
> 
> That being said, I actually decided to get myself and my readers a little gift. Lo and behold, I commissioned fanart!
> 
> I hope you're all doing well and staying safe! I know things are pretty distressing right now, but this too shall pass.
> 
> I'd love to hear from you guys. Did you enjoy the fanart? Like the chapter? How are you? Tell me everything!
> 
> Hopefully the next update won't take this long!  
Love,  
Rika


	18. Charged Silence

It’s early morning as you step out to the cool, misty castle front. The grass around you still has its dew and you can hear some morning birds chirping in the distance.

Most servants are still asleep, but you’re astonished to see that all of the royal family has gotten up to see you off.

“Cora, my sweet child,” Czar Yeager sighs. “I wish you a safe journey and a safe return. Please, come back. We need you here,” he can’t help but add.

“Your grace, I have every intention of returning, no matter the outcome of these negotiations,” you console him.

Historia steps to you next, and her eyes are large and expressive as she takes your hand.

“Good luck, Cora. It’s up to you now. I trust you can get it done.”

As much as you’re still wary of Historia and haven’t forgiven her for what she did to you, the smile you give her is on the cordial side.

“Thank you.”

You’re willing to take baby steps. It’s the most advantageous thing to do, and you don’t doubt her claim of only trying to kill you because of Zeke.

The Czarina steps forward next. She looks a little tired but seeing the way she’s in full royal gear instantly explains why. She must’ve woken up early to look presentable, something neither you nor Historia bothered to do. You’re wearing a simple green dress and hardly any make-up. Maid Springer pulled your hair back with a clip, but that’s the extent of effort you put into your appearance.

You have all the time in the ship to get ready to face Novaryn.

The Czarina looks a little awkward, and to your astonishment, she grasps your hand and steers you away from the rest. She clears her throat and fiddles with the sleeve of her dress.

“Excuse me if this is far too pushy of me, Cora, but I heard Novarynian gardens grow this special flower… A black rose with silver-lined petals.”

“Do you mean a cinder rose?” you ask, a little surprised but not put off.

“Yes, yes. That one. Forgive me for being so forward but I’ve always dreamt of trying to grow some in my meadow…” she trails off with an apologetic wince.

At that, you smile a little.

“I can bring you cinder rose seeds, your grace,” you promise. Immediately, her eyes light up with excitement.

It’s easily the closest moment you’ve ever had with your mother-in-law.

“Thank you, dear.”

You return to the rest and as you do the Czarina avoids the Czar’s questioning looks and slips back to stand next to him.

Zeke is next. His eyes have that same, unsettling twinkle to them, but he knows better than misbehaving in public. Instead, he offers you a curt bow.

“Good luck, your excellency,” he hums with just the tiniest touch of drawl to his voice.

“Thank you, your grace.” Your answer is of neutral tone and you answer his bow with a curtsey. Paying him as little mind as possible has been your approach lately, and it seems to have worked alright so far.

Eren is last. He gives his father a small, sour glance, just to see him gesture towards you demandingly.

Eren sighs and steps closer.

“Here,” he mutters and shows you a pair of golden ribbons. “I think it’s time we start wearing these.”

You blink at the ribbons. They’re the same, shiny and silky material as Historia and Zeke’s. These, however, are a bit wrinkly from apparently being stuffed in Eren’s pocket.

Maybe he’s had them for a while.

“You… You mean you want us to marry with haste?” you ask. Next to you, you can sense Levi’s mood turn from neutral to tense, though he does a good job concealing it from the others’ eyes.

A ribbon means the wedding is to be held within eight weeks. You know that much about Varsikovian wedding traditions. That’s far sooner than you anticipated, though you can understand why the Czar and Admiral Zackly would like to hasten the process.

Being legally tied to Varsiko would make for an even better-grounded hostage.

“It’s not only for our benefit, but it’s also for your own safety,” Czar Yeager cuts in. “Should… Unpleasant complications arise, the laws regarding the treatment of the Czar and his close family would also be effective on you. You’ll be better protected if you’re married to a Czarevich as opposed to just being his fiancée.”

You bite your lip and think it over. Then, finally, you extend your right hand and offer it to Eren. He ties the wrinkled ribbon on it, on a clumsy bow.

You tie the other one around Eren’s left wrist. You glance at Historia. She looks a tiny bit stony but holds up her façade admirably well as Eren takes your hand and gives the back of it a customary kiss.

You pull your hand away and curtsey.

“Please do not worry. I will make my brother see reason and halt this war,” you address all of them.

It warms your heart the smallest bit, seeing all of them here seeing you off. Mins Zeke, naturally. You almost feel like a part of a real family.

The suitcase is loaded in and with one last glance at the royal family, you climb in with Levi.

You wait until the carriage is safely off the castle grounds before speaking up.

“You are unhappy, Levi. That is alright,” you say and turn to face him. He’s stubbornly staring out of the window and only addresses you with a grunt.

Sighing gently, you move to sit next to him.

“Do you want to be left alone right now?” you carefully ask.

He doesn’t respond. He merely allows his hand to briefly brush over yours, gaze still fixated on the foggy morning city you’re traversing through.

You let your fingers link a little and turn your head to look out of the opposite window. You see the bakers, the sweepers, the soldiers on their way home from night watch.

“It’s going to be hard,” Levi finally confesses, his voice a little tight.

“I know,” you simply answer. A peaceful moment passes as you both look out to the slowly lighting horizon.

“There will never be a day I’ll be okay with anyone else touching you. But I can try to live with it.”

Your fingers twitch a little, and you squeeze his hand tighter in yours.

“You know it is a marriage of convenience. He will never come to love me like he loves Historia. And I will never come to love him as I love you.”

“Don’t say such words aloud when we’re not in private,” Levi warns you.

“The driver is not going to hear us,” you snort.

“I don’t trust anyone or anything right now,” Levi sighs and finally turns to look at you. He pulls his hand away from yours and places it on your head.

“There are worse people to marry in that castle than Eren Yeager and for that, I’m thankful.”

“But that does not mean you will be able to smile on my wedding day. I understand that. Just know that all I do, I do for political gain. My heart remains firmly in your hands.”

“Alright,” he murmurs and leans in to place a single kiss on your forehead before slipping back to his stoic mien.

You curve into the harbour a dozen minutes later. You step out of the carriage and look at the boat waiting for you. Medium-sized and made of dark ebony wood, it carries Varsiko’s flag on its sails.

You’re escorted inside a small cabin at the end of a narrow corridor. Inside there is a small bed and a desk.

It’s just a few hours’ boat ride to Novaryn, so you luckily won’t need to spend the night here.

Levi follows you inside and closes the door after himself. You sit on the bed with a small huff.

“Nervous to go back?”

“A little,” you confess. “Whatever holy powers my father had, my brother should acquire them upon visiting the Sacred Tree after the coronation. He will be able to see that I’m marked for damnation and that might make him even more hesitant to listen to anything I have to say.”

Levi nods and lights the candle on the desk to give you a bit more light. You watch the fire and bite your lower lip, just a bit anxious.

“Have a plan?”

“I’m working on it,” you mutter. “I feel vastly unprepared, but I have little choice. I still have a few hours, but I’m terrified of the thought of facing my brother and having to improvise on the spot.”

Levi sits down next to you. He manoeuvres until he’s leaning his back against the wooden wall. You watch him quietly.

“Well, I’m no expert in politics,” he admits. “But from what I’ve seen, you have a gift for thinking on the spot. Things will always be unpredictable, and plans tend to fall through. But you have an intuition for figuring it out. I have no doubt you will be able to take whatever tools you’re given and use them to your benefit.”

You listen to him quietly. You still don’t understand where his trust in you stems from when you still feel so small. Despite all you’ve accomplished, you still fear the moment someone decides to finally call your bluff and reveal you have nothing to stand on.

All you know is to appear as if you know what you’re doing.

Yet still, Levi’s words warm your heavy heart.

You move to sit next to him and lean your head on his shoulder. You breathe in his scent, that earthy combination of freshly soaped cotton and a hint of metal.

“Why did you fall for me, Levi?” you ask with a peaceful smile. Levi thinks it over.

“I don’t know. I never had a home or family, so I have no clue how one feels when they do. Yet you feel like home.”

“I can be your home,” you smile a little. But you understand what he’s saying. In Varsiko, Levi’s the only beacon of light you have to help you navigate the treacherous seas.

Levi seems to suddenly recall something and takes out a small envelope.

“Here. From Hange. She dropped it in your room when you were bathing this morning,” he says. You take the envelope, open the wax seal and take out a parchment, along with two small bottles filled with some kind of powder.

_Good luck! I’m sure you’ll do just fine. _

_These are very mild chemical compounds that, when rubbed on one’s skin, make them glow in the dark for around 20 hours. Great for parties and gatherings, maybe you can impress your brother with these. I even picked out compounds that glow blue and bronze._

_See you,_

_Hange_

“She gave me tools to spice up a party. Does she even know what Novaryn is like? Our idea of a party is sitting with the monks praying the whole day,” you mutter but slip the small bottles in with the rest of your luggage. Even if you will most likely not use them.

Still, you appreciate the sentiment. Even if it’s really not of help.

You look at the ribbon on your wrist. Eren finally proposed. Not because he wanted to but because the times are dire. Just a few weeks remain until the ceremony.

You make a mental note to talk to Eren about your upcoming marriage. You both know where you stand concerning each other, but you want to ask him to postpone consummating until it’s absolutely vital to conceive a child.

You imagine carrying Eren’s child and wince. It’s not a pleasant thought, but you know it’s necessary.

You briefly contemplate taking off the ribbon for the duration of your visit but ultimately decide against it.

You get on your feet and stretch a little.

“Let us go. I do not want to spend the entire journey cooped up like this,” you say and go out to the narrow corridor.

The ship is empty save for you and the necessary crew to keep things operational. You have no other passengers to deal with as you climb up to the small deck.

The sails are high, and you immediately place your hands over the hem of your dress to keep it from rising too high in the hands of the fresh salty wind.

The sea is clear but a little wavy. When you’re convinced your skirts are safe, you rest your hands on the railing and lean over the side just a little to see the foamy, pearl white trail the ship leaves in its wake.

“Don’t lean too much, yer grace! Wouldn’t want to be late because we had to stop to rope ye back in when ye fall!” a seaman calls to you from the lookout post.

The rest of the crew are working elsewhere, either under the deck or on the other end of the ship at the wheel.

You look at the young-looking crewmember, standing in the small, circular nest above the grey sails. Varsiko’s flag is flapping on top of the mast.

“Do you sail to Novaryn often?” you yell to him.

“We’re one of the only authorised vessels to enter both Rekanon and Genesia harbours. We mainly carry messengers and mail, though.”

The lookout resumes his post, eyes trained ahead, and you lean over the railing again to admire the dark depths below.

It’s not often you get to travel, especially in a ship.

You feel a hand grasping the back of your dress and holding on firmly. You chuckle a bit.

“Worried I will stumble overboard like a bumbling fool?” you ask without turning.

“I’d rather not jump in there after you. The water is quite cold this late in fall,” Levi informs you. You look at the dark waves, trying to assess their temperature.

“Can you swim? You are made of metal, would you not sink?”

“I can swim, it’s the weight of your dress I’d be the most worried about,” he says. You hum with a small smile.

“I wish I could travel with you,” you confess. “Go out to see the world, be together without worrying who sees us.”

“That would be a nice world indeed,” Levi answers, but he doesn’t seem too taken by the fantasy.

Always the realist, focused on what’s in front of him.

When you get so close to Novaryn you can see the approaching landmass, you return to your room and change into a heavy and flowing golden dress with a pair of silken blue gloves.

“How do you breathe in this thing?” Levi asks as he helps you cinch the top around your waist. You give him a small smile over your shoulder.

“Shallowly,” you confess. You step into a pair of glimmering, golden heels as Levi finishes fastening the dress. You feel him press a small kiss to the nape of your neck, and your eyes immediately flutter shut on instinct.

Were it not for the layer of lipstick on your mouth, you would turn and kiss him properly. Now, however, you must make do with giving his hand a small squeeze and move out of the cabin.

You expect your arrival to go similarly to your departure, with nothing but a carriage waiting for you. Turns out you’re wrong.

As you see the fast-approaching lights of the city, the soft and gleaming halo and the ancient architecture, your heart fills with sudden homesickness.

How you missed these tall, diverse buildings, these narrow pebble roads, the smell of fresh forests and ripe, plump plums. Behind the city, you can see the familiar looming figure of the Genesia Castle as well as the Twin Mountains, their peaks covered in thick snow as they are throughout the whole year.

You can almost hear the chime from the monastery, signifying the start of morning prayer. The humming of monks as they walk barefooted to answer the call of the Creator. You can almost smell the royal garden, feel the gentle puffs of playful autumn wind on your arms as you lay in the long grass in the castle backyard, staring at the clear sky.

A part of you wishes dearly to return to those days. When you were the 13th Princess of Novaryn, never destined for greatness yet not cursed with responsibility, either.

You didn’t choose this life, just as you didn’t choose your previous one. All you can do is march on until you see a light at the end of the long road.

You see the crowds of people, gathered around the docs. Necks craning, they’re all trying to see what’s going on and when you see the royal carriage, the line of soldiers on salute and a familiar, dark-haired boy waiting for you, you don’t know how to react.

You clutch the small golden box in your hands. A stag and an ornate, blazing sun are carved on the lid of the heavy metal.

Your father’s remains, retrieved from the catacombs, have been appropriately cremated.

As the boat docks, you address Levi without turning.

“Follow me, do not look around too much. Try not to attract attention. No matter what happens, do not step in or show aggression. They are looking for an excuse to detain you.”

Levi doesn’t answer. When the ship stops and you walk down the plank to the docks, you have to take a few deep breaths to steel your nerves.

You keep your head high as you walk along the wooden dock, through the path outlined by the two rows of Novarynian soldiers, standing completely still with their left hand clutched into a fist and raised in a salute.

You see Sirius waiting for you at the harbour, standing in front of a bronze-coloured carriage pulled by two, pearl white horses.

He’s wearing a silken, blue and bronze jacket, a pair of shiny black boots and his golden crown is glistening in the morning light.

The crowd is watching with barred breaths, you hear wary whispers, but so far no one is speaking up or heckling you.

“Cora,” Sirius says and, without minding the presence of the audience, pulls you in for a warm embrace. “Oh, how I have missed you.“

You instantly relax against his chest and smile. You hug him back tightly.

“Likewise,” you whisper and when you pull back, you feel a little choked up. Just a few months back, this was your home. And as much as Sirius’ embrace is nostalgic, it now feels foreign.

“Let us go. I have arranged for a moment of prayer in the castle monastery.”

You nod and follow him into the carriage. You glance at Levi, unsure what to do with him. You doubt Sirius will just allow him in with you.

“Your guard will be escorted straight to your chambers in a separate carriage,” Sirius reads your expression. Immediately, Levi’s eyes flash and he opens his mouth to protest.

“It is alright. I’m safe here, this is my land. Go ahead, I will meet you in my room,” you tell him, a stern edge to your voice.

Levi clearly hates the thought but he lets it go. He knows better than starting a ruckus here.

You climb into the carriage and sit on the plump, orange-coloured cushions. Sirius slams the door shut and sits across from you. The horses start pulling the carriage, and you’re left alone with your brother.

You look at the lively, bright streets of Genesia City, the incoherent architecture, some centuries old, some only decades, the peasants bustling around with relaxed smiles.

The reality and threat of war are so far removed here.

“Here,” you say and hand the box to Sirius. “Give this to the monks.”

Sirius nods.

“We will hold a memorial tomorrow. Today, we pray and dine together. The coronation is in four days’ time, after which I have to visit the Sacred Tree.”

After the visit, he, much like your late father, will be able to see your Mark of Damnation. Not that it matters, the monks will be able to see it the second you set foot inside the monastery.

“When will you have time to sit down with me and discuss the recent developments?” you ask. Sirius sighs.

“Must we really focus on such affairs now?”

“When are you planning to resume the war?” you ask and cross your arms. You will not be brushed aside and if Sirius thinks you will leave all this unaddressed, he’s sorely mistaken.

“Cora, there is no use in talking about that now. You will remain here where it is safe and the war will have no impact on you.”

“I refuse,” you say. “Whether you continue the war or not, I will go back to Varsiko and keep advocating for peace.”

Sirius shifts uncomfortably on his seat and shoots you a small frown. You’re raining on his parade.

“Why? Why would you do something so reckless?”

“Because I believe in this peace. Father sent me to Varsiko to hinder the war and he believed in it up until the end.”

“And he was then assassinated.”

“He was assassinated by a third party to re-ignite the war. You are playing straight into their hands, Sirius.”

“How do you know it was a third party?” Sirius points out.

“Because I was there, Sirius. I saw it. And I know she was not working with the Czar nor with Darius Zackly.”

“How?”

You press your lips together at that. There is no way you can tell him that it was the crown prince of Varsiko without having him explode. Nor that you know Darius Zackly wasn’t involved because of a leeway left in a contract meant to install a loyalty chip in you.

“I just do. I know you do not think much of me or my capabilities as a princess or diplomat, but I ask for you to trust me enough to know that I’m certain this was a third party.”

Sirius sighs, still looking doubtful.

“If you say so.”

“I ask for you to arrange a meeting between us and the highest-ranking military personnel in Genesia City to discuss the war.”

He opens his mouth, clearly to decline.

“If you decline, I will go meet them on my own behind your back,” you dully announce. “I’m not here for a vacation, Sirius.”

He looks scandalised, then. He looks over you, as if trying to reassure himself he’s in the carriage with the right person. His eyes, as dark as your father’s, lack the sharp edge the former king’s had.

“I shall think about it,” he finally mutters. You’re not impressed with his vague promise.

“If I do not receive an invitation come nightfall tomorrow, I will conclude there will be no meeting and proceed on my own,” you tell him firmly.

“What happened to my little sister?” Sirius asks, and he looks a little sad all of a sudden.

“She grew up, Sirius. You have no clue what I have been through to preserve this peace and I will not have it crumble. If you wish to make an enemy of me, then by all means, but I must warn you. I know this game better than you.”

The carriage pulls to a halt and the moment the door is opened, you give Sirius a cool look and step outside.

You look around the yard. The familiar looming castle with its asymmetric, age-old towers, peaking here and there with no rhyme or reason. The blue and bronze flags flapping all around the grounds. The green and lush yard with people basking in the sun, reading under parasols or chattering amongst each other.

It’s so much livelier than Rekanon Castle. It feels warm, bright, alive.

When your eyes land on the woman standing by the monastery, fiddling the hem of her heavy satin dress with her dark, oval-shaped eyes, you stop where you are.

To be honest, you completely forgot you’d be meeting her as well.

Your mother, upon seeing you, quickly gathers the hems of her dress and runs to you through the tiled walkway.

“Cora,” she sobs and hugs you tight. “Oh, my child. I’m so happy you are back.”

“Mother,” you murmur and wrap your arms around her. She pulls back, cups your face in her hands and looks over you.

“Oh how you have changed,” she remarks. “You look older. More tired. Do not worry, you are safe now.”

“Mother-”

Sirius walks up to you and gently grasps your arm.

“She is back now, and I will not send her back to those barbarians,” he promises your mother, who hurries to nod eagerly. You pull your arm loose.

“I plan to return after the coronation.”

“Do not speak such silly things, my child,” your mother scolds you and you’re practically hauled to the monastery and inside it before you can say a word.

The whole interior is glimmering from floor to ceiling, the walls are lined with thin gold paint. The thick smoke of incense penetrates your lungs and the candles burning all around the large hall make the air even hotter than outside.

The second you step in, a wave of unease goes through the monks and priests inside. They nearly stumble over their long, blue and bronze tunics as they all huddle together, whispering with elevated tones.

One of the priests is sent to approach you, and the ornate hat on his bald head tells you he’s one of the Respected, priests of higher status than the rest.

“Your grace,” he approaches you with apprehension. “Everyone is welcome to pray here in the Royal Monastery, but I feel like it is my duty to inform you-“

“-that I have been marked for damnation. I’m aware, thank you. I would still like to pray if that is possible.”

You hear your mother let out a high-pitched whimper. She grabs your arm and yanks you to face her.

“What do you mean?” she asks, eyes wide and startled. “Marked for Damnation?”

“I am.”

You take off your gloves to show her the ribbon around your wrist. You won’t tell them you’re sleeping with your augmented guard, so Eren will have to do as a scapegoat. Both your mother and Sirius stare at the ribbon, eyes wide and jaws hanging open.

You feel a sudden, sharp pain in your cheek and only when you turn your head and see your mother with an outstretched hand do you realise that she has slapped you.

She never laid a hand on you when you were a child.

You look at her for a moment, not sure how to react. The priest gasps and hurries between you. Sirius grasps your mother’s forearm to keep her from slapping you again, clearly shocked.

“Your grace, this is a sacred place,” the priest scolds your mother, but she’s not listening. Her eyes are square on you.

“I told you not to lay with their kind,” she hisses at you, eyes filled with deep hatred.

You should maybe feel betrayed or angry, but instead, you feel pity for the woman in front of you.

She’s scared. She raised you with the thought of forever having you by her side, keeping her company in her golden cage. As a mother, she was attentive if not a touch suffocating, always keen to be with you, eager to be in on everything in your life.

She raised you to be a good, quiet and non-questioning lady of Stelanian faith. Now, you’ve returned something foreign, something that intimidates her.

You don’t address the slap in any way. Instead, you turn your calm eyes to the priest.

“May I pray here despite my mark?”

“Everyone is welcome to ask for forgiveness from the Creator,” he says, albeit reluctantly so. You nod and walk further in.

Instead of chairs or benches, the whole hall is filled with thin, blue pillows. You ignore the scared looks of the priests and monks and instead, kneel on one of the cushions.

You place one hand on your forehead and the other over your heart and start murmuring a prayer under your breath.

Soon, you feel someone settle next to you and a second later, you hear the familiar mutter of Sirius’ voice.

Your mother follows suit, albeit it takes her a few minutes to do so. She sits down beside Sirius and immediately engages in prayer that sounds frantic, her prayers escalating into distressed whimpers and sobs now and then.

You wonder if you’re now ruined goods to your mother. Always religious and concerned with not angering the Creator, you wonder if she’s praying for your salvation or her own.

Hours roll by as you sit completely still, trying to cleanse your soul even though you know it’s no longer possible.

Around you, the monks and priests slowly grow accustomed to your presence and resume their positions minding the monastery and praying.

When the bell rings to signal dinnertime, you finally raise to your stiff, half-numb feet. You almost forgot the post-prayer muscle pain you used to be so familiar with.

“Let us go eat dinner,” Sirius says. He glances at the forming bruise on your cheek but doesn’t address it. Your mother avoids your eyes until you’re out of the monastery.

“Could you leave us, please?” she asks Sirius the moment you’re outside again. He looks between you, unsure what to do, but you give him a small nod.

You’re not afraid of her. Even if she slaps you again. You can handle that much.

She waits until Sirius has disappeared inside before sighing.

“Let us go somewhere private.“

You follow her to the garden. It’s usually empty around dinnertime, and as you walk between the neat rows of colourful plants, only a couple of gardeners are still at work weeding and maintaining the garden.

“I’m sorry for hitting you. It was most unbecoming,” she starts after a charged silence.

“It is alright. I know you are upset, but this is my reality now.”

“But why?” she whispers with a thin, stressed voice. “I never wanted or asked for much, just to live in peace with my daughter. Why was I robbed of you?”

“Because father thought I was marked by the Creator,” you answer honestly. “He told me when he visited. He had a premonition.”

“That foolish man,” your mother sighs and stops to gnaw on her nails and cuticles. You reach a hand to stop her, but she flinches and moves away.

She must be afraid you’ll taint her.

“Mother, you cannot catch Damnation from me,” you point out with a tired sigh. “Either way, I do not intend to stay here. I will return to Varsiko no matter what Brother decides about the war and keep advocating for peace.”

“Cora… Why do you care so for this peace?” She doesn’t understand why you would abandon a safe life here to chase something with such slim odds.

“I have found my calling, Mother. I want to protect people. Not only the wealthy Novarynians here in Genesia City but the ones near the border of Varsiko, the ones shipped to Varsiko for slave labour. You are from East Novaryn, you know of their plight.”

Your mother looks down and sighs.

“Yes. I know. But it is too much for you to shoulder alone.”

“I’m not alone,” you shake your head with a small smile. You have Levi. Czar Yeager is adamant about maintaining peace. Even Darius Zackly, for all his morally reprehensible acts, is not keen on resuming war.

“I know I am marked for Damnation. I am to marry a man who rejects our faith. But before that, I want to do whatever I can with my life.”

You stand tall as you face your mother. For so long, you relied on her for everything yet now, all you see is a fragile, scared woman. Were you to lean on her now, she would surely shatter.

She shakes her head. She doesn’t understand. But her love for her child overrides her instinct to turn her back and coil. She takes your hand, gaze cracking under the weight of her sorrow, and guides you back to the castle.

As you step inside the main dining hall, you have to pause and resist the urge to rub your eyes. Along the huge wooden table engraved with golden etchings sit thirteen people. The maids are bustling around them, setting the table and bringing out dish after dish.

You look at Sirius and the twelve other people. Your half-sisters.

He must have forced all of them to attend to make you feel like the whole castle is thrilled to have you back.

You take a seat with your mother and turn your eyes to the feast before you.

Freshly caught rabbit and quail. An abundance of colourful vegetables, so fresh you can see the droplets of the spring water they were washed with. Caramel-covered candied apples. A large jug of gravy.

You glance at the women around the table. Your twelve older sister whose attitude towards you ranges from complete indifference to intense dislike.

Some of them are glaring at you but most try their best to not look you in the eye.

You pile a small meal on your plate and start eating in tense silence. Sirius glances at you nervously every now and then.

Compared to your father, he’s much more mellow. Just as your father said, he has a good head on his shoulders but lacks a backbone. Thus, there’s a real threat of him becoming a puppet king if he doesn’t find his bearings soon.

And should that happen, any leverage you have over Novarynian politics will inevitably be dulled.

“I will permit you to return to Varsiko if that is what you wish for. I will not, however, allow you to meet with the Admiral,” Sirius says after a further moment of uncomfortable silence.

You sigh and set the utensils down. Taking a deep breath, you steel your nerves and prepare mentally for the tug of war that will be this conversation.

“And why is that?” you ask him calmly and meet his eyes.

“You have nothing to do with our politics. Father sent you to Varsiko to marry the czarevich, not to become a diplomat.”

“That is where you are mistaken. Father sent me because I was chosen by the Creator.”

“That is what you claim, but I have no reason to believe that is the truth.”

“Whether you believe that is irrelevant. I have acted as a diplomat with good results and you would be foolish to make an enemy of the only link you have to Varsikovian affairs.”

“What have you done? In practice?” he asks, voice full of scepticism. You resume eating.

“Do you think Varsiko just handed over the slaves from those factories as a gesture of goodwill? I negotiated with Admiral Zackly and made it happen.”

“You could not have,” one of your sisters speaks up. “That must have been Father.”

“You are free to send Admiral Zackly a letter asking him for the truth,” you counter calmly.

“Sirius, do not tell me you believe this,” another of your sisters cuts in with a sigh. “She is clearly indoctrinated. Her time with the Varsikovians has gotten to her.”

Sirius looks like he doesn’t know what to think. He looks at your steady, unwavering face, then the sceptical expressions of your sisters.

“I will not allow an audience with the Admiral,” Sirius decides, and you could groan.

“Alright, but do not come crying to me when Creator strikes you down for straying me from my path,” you shrug and resume eating.

It’s not worth it to start a commotion now. It would only make Sirius more convinced of your immaturity. What you need is to retreat for the night and think it over with Levi.

The dining hall is charged with heavy silence as you eat. You feel the others’ eyes on you, looking for cracks in your stony face.

You pay them no mind and finish your meal.

“Thank you for dinner. Excuse me.”

“Cora-” your mother calls after you, but you ignore her.

You leave without looking back. The moment the door closes after you, you hear your sisters erupt in feverish whispers, going over what just happened.

Well, Genesia Castle just wouldn’t be the same without the gossip mill whirring around you.

You march back to your chambers and the moment you walk in, you search for Levi.

He’s standing by one of the windows, looking out with a thoughtful expression. He turns, and his eyes narrow when he notices the mark on your cheek.

“Who did that?”

“Mother. It is alright,“ you sigh, stomp to your bed and slump down on it. The smell of rose soap and perfume on your bronze-coloured sheets used to be a sign of home. Now, it sticks out like a sore thumb.

“I take it didn’t go well?”

You huff into the pillow before rolling over to your back. You pat the bed next to you.

Levi weighs his options before finally walking to the door just to check it’s locked before sauntering to you and sitting down next to you.

“What happened?”

You start recapping everything that happened, from the carriage ride to the incident at the monastery to the uncomfortable dinner.

“Your family sounds like a handful,” Levi says when you finish. You give him a tired smile.

“I suppose. Though I must admit, I did think my brother would be more open to listening to me. But he does not believe that I’m telling the truth when I say I was chosen by the Creator.”

“Shame your father didn’t mention that to him.”

“He was not expecting to die. There is a lot he did not tell my brother. I’m afraid he will end up a talking head for the Admiral rather than a King in his own right.”

“So, what now?” he asks and idly slips a hand in your hair. You relish in the touch as he gently combs his fingers through.

“I’m not sure. I need to change his mind, but I have no clue how to do that.”

“Well, let’s start from the beginning. What does your brother respect?”

“My father. The Creator. The admiral. If I could convince him I have been chosen by the Creator, then our problem would solve itself, but I think that will not be possible. He would need something spectacular, like a lightning strike or for the sky to turn blue and bronze.”

“Can’t help you there,” Levi hums. His hand pulls out of your hair and his fingertips trail over the tender bruise on your cheek. You grasp his hand and sit up.

Easily, your lips come together. You cling to his shoulders and kiss him, trying to slow down the anxious loop in your mind, reeling through the happenstances over and over in a futile attempt to find a way out.

He pushes you down on the bed and mounts you, admiring the way your hair tousles all over the shiny silk sheets. You look up at him, a little out of breath and feeling your cheeks flush.

“The blue and bronze suit you,” he remarks as he allows his eyes to trail over your dress.

“Well, it is the sacred colour combination of our Creator,” you chuckle and then sigh longingly. “If there only was a way to turn me blue and bronze as well, maybe my brother would then-”

You stop abruptly.

In unison, both of your eyes dart to your luggage by the wall. The same idea pops in both of your heads simultaneously.

Your gazes meet and a grin creeps to your features.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening! Well, morning in my case. My writer's block is finally gone and I can produce text like a normal human being. For whatever reason, 77G just brought my writing prowess to a screeching halt but ever since I got that chapter out, writing has been exceptionally smooth since :)
> 
> The world's a little crazy right now, and watching everything that's going on from my small, peaceful little country is pretty weird. I hope you're all safe and doing well! I'm here to give you a short escape from reality should you need it. And as always, my DMs are always open on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SquibblesMcGoo) in case anyone wants to talk or vent, about anything at all. If you're out there protesting, stay safe!
> 
> In terms of this update, Cora finally made it back to Novaryn and it seems like her brother and mother aren't too keen to listen to anything she has to say. Well, it's their loss, Cora's about to serve you full-on snake oil infused con artist realness ^^
> 
> Did you enjoy the chapter? Excited for Cora's ploy to pass herself as a chosen one? Thinking Cora should've slapped a bitch right back? Let me know! I'm always happy to hear from my readers.
> 
> Until next time!


	19. This Time

Full moon.

You sit on the windowsill and gaze out to the nightly castle grounds.

How many times did you sit here as a child, looking at the moonlit forests and mountains, wishing you could venture out to the wilderness and see the world?

How many times did you sit on this very spot, a book on your lap? Eyes greedily taking in every word with haste, as if afraid someone would tear the book from your hands at any moment. Every now and then breaking yourself away from the spell of those ornate, glorious stories just to look out and sigh.

Stories of brave knights, beautiful princesses, far out lands and lives that made an impact. Oh, how you used to wish you could live in that world instead of yours. You wanted to be someone else, someone that mattered.

You wanted the glory but never considered the price.

Now, you are someone else. Now, you matter. But is it all worth it?

The room is lit with the pale, cold light of the moon. The yard below you is empty save for a few guards making the rounds.

You see some horses pasturing outside, beyond the large, fertile garden. The pearl white animals look as if illuminated in the dimness of the night.

You missed home. Yet now that you’re here, you’re not at all sure you truly did.

“Hey.”

You smile to yourself as you feel Levi’s cool hand place on your shoulder.

“Go to bed.”

“Soon,” you answer and place your hand on top of his. “Let me enjoy this for a moment longer. Who knows when I will get the chance to see this again, if ever?”

“The castle grounds?”

“A full moon in Genesia Castle. It is beautiful if not ghostly.”

“What happens during full moon?” Levi asks. You smile knowingly and wait. A dozen minutes later, you see the familiar light of lanterns. Slowly moving across the yard, illuminating what little dimness the moon left in its wake.

You look at the familiar, hooded figures. Barefooted and wearing long, unassuming cloaks, they look like they could be beggars from the street.

“Who are they?”

“Monks.”

“What are they doing?”

“Novarynian mythos has is that when the Creator first created this Earth, the first people he ever made were two women named Solla and Lune. Both dear to the Creator but unable to stand each other, they insisted they should not be made into stars on the same night sky after their death, for they could not bear the thought of shining next to each other for all eternity.”

Levi sits down next to you and quietly watches as the long line of monks slowly moves towards the monastery.

“The Creator offered them a deal. Each would get to rule the sky for half the day. Solla and Lune both liked the thought, but neither wanted the night, for that is when everyone is asleep. They drew lots, and Lune lost. Solla became the sun and Lune the moon. Lune, devastated by her defeat, was so ashamed of her new role she hid her face, only coming out in her fullest once a month like this. Thus, in an attempt to soothe her pain, the monks gather every full moon to pray.”

“So, the sun and moon are the two people made first?” Levi slowly recaps.

“Yes.”

“And the stars?”

“Every person who ascends the Stairs of Salvation becomes a star in the night sky. The ones shining so bright we can see them are the first people the Creator made. All children of the royal family are named after a star.”

“Which one are you named after?”

“Corhakopius.”

“Which one is that?”

“You cannot see it often. It is the most distant one, it rarely shows itself and the rare nights it does, the light is very dim.”

“I see.”

“I thought I was named after it because they wanted me to stay invisible and out of the way, but I later learnt my father named me after it because it symbolises the unknown.”

You turn to give Levi a sheepish smile.

“You do not need to act like you are interested in our mythology. It must sound like a bunch of hogwash to you.”

“Just because it’s not true doesn’t mean it’s not interesting,” he points out. You move closer until you’re next to him and can lean your head on his shoulder.

“Are you sure you want to go ahead with the plan tomorrow? You’ll be scamming your brother,” he says. You shake your head and watch the monks trickle by.

“If my brother will not listen to me, I will have to make it so he does. He will never know the truth. Besides, I’m not lying. My father picked me because he thought I was special.”

Levi looks out to the yard, painted light blue by the moon.

“Stars, huh,” he says. “So, you won’t become a star?”

“No. I bear the mark. I will be cast down the Well of Damnation.” You don’t look too scared by the news.

“What happens after you get cast down?”

“There are actually two schools of thought,” you say. The last of the monks walk inside the monastery and the door is slammed shut.

One of the priests comes out and starts ringing the large bronze bell in the yard. The sound echoes through the nightly city and soon, other monasteries throughout the city chime in, creating a sea of sound.

From the Twin Mountains, you can hear the echoes of the two monasteries situated near each peak.

“The West Novarynians think that the Well of Damnation leads to a barred desert called the Underworld. There, you are doomed to wander in circles for all eternity without ever coming across a thing. No food, no water, no people, just endless dunes of sand.”

“And the East Novarynians?”

“They believe the Well of Damnation is the eternal torture. That you will be falling forever, dreading the moment you hit the bottom only to never get there.”

“So that’s where you and I and all Varsikovians are headed?”

You chuckle and snuggle tighter against Levi. You take his arm and pull it over your shoulders.

“Anyone who welcomes Alchemy or ties themselves to a person embracing it is marked for Damnation. However, those who don’t worship the Creator yet have not embraced Alchemy either are destined for Limbo. Eternal slumber.”

“Sounds needlessly complicated.”

“Maybe it is. I must say, after such a long time away from people who worship the Stelanian Creator, it feels odd.”

“Were you a religious fanatic?”

“Very much so,” you say with a self-deprecating smile. “I was not raised to question things around me. Only after I came to Varsiko did I start thinking truly with my own brain. It seems so long ago when I was but a scripture-loving girl in this castle.”

“I like you better now.”

You raise an eyebrow and turn to look at him. He doesn’t seem to be making fun of you.

“Do you, now?”

“Yes.”

“When did you fall in love with me?” you ask, suddenly curious. For you, it was the time you sat on that meadow. When you longed to be more like Historia, when Varsiko was still unknown and frightening to you.

Levi was the only constant. He was the only person you knew wouldn’t lie to you through his teeth. He was upfront about his loyalties. He still is.

“You always felt oddly comforting,” Levi says. He clears his throat, frowning, not the best storyteller. “Maybe it’s because you were so far removed from the military where I grew up, but I felt drawn to your light.”

“As I did to yours,” you hum. “You were the first person to tell me I could do it.”

You relax against his chest. Always so steady and stable beside you, you don’t even want to think of where you would be had Levi not taken a liking to you and started helping you out.

“What do you think of Novaryn? Is it all you thought to be?”

“I’ve fought at the border my whole adult life. But I must say, it’s vastly different here than in East Novaryn. To think there could be so much wealth here when the East…”

He shakes his head.

“It’s different here,” he settles on saying.

“We should get some rest,” you say and raise to your feet as the bells stop ringing. They always ring thirty times to signal the passing of a month. “There is much to do tomorrow.”

You place a kiss on Levi’s forehead and wander back to your bed. You burrow under the covers, now satiated. You just wanted to see the Lunar Rite once more.

Levi watches the empty yard for a second longer, a thoughtful hue to his eyes, before retreating back to the door.

-

Your father’s burial goes without incident. Unlike regular prayer, only those in the favour of the Creator may see people off to the Stairs to Salvation.

Thus, you’re left out of the ceremony. You’re fine with it, it gives you more time to plan for the scam.

As you hear the bell, tolling to sign for the King’s final departure, Levi helps you out of your dress. You walk to the bathroom with him and in unison, you start preparing the mixture. You pour some water in two basins.

Levi sprinkles some of the blue powder in one of them, mixes it and soaks some on a napkin. He starts rubbing the liquid on your skin. Meanwhile, you take the bronze one and do the same.

You have to take a few calming breaths, not only because you’re nervous to lie to your brother, but also because it’s the first time you’ve been completely bare before Levi since you made love.

The memory still plagues you. The warmth of his hold, his humid breath on your skin. The steady build up until you lost control and came undone for him.

You long for it. Even now, when your life should centre around more becoming matters.

You feel his touch on your back. You rub some bronze on your chest. At times, you let the colours intersect and mingle to make swirls.

He gently moves your hair away and spreads the blue on the nape of your neck. As if on instinct, you close your eyes.

You’ve craved his touch, you’re realising.

More than you thought. More than you deemed possible.

You swallow and stop his hand on your shoulder by placing yours on it. You take a trembling breath.

“Levi,” you murmur and turn to look at him. “I’m scared.”

“I know.”

He pulls his hand free and gently places it on your head.

“You’ll do fine.”

He shifts, just a little, his eyebrows burrowing in discomfort. He does his best to not let you in on the fact but it’s in vain.

Your eyes flicker down and when you see the way his pants bulge, you blink. Granted, you were nervous yourself, but you didn’t expect him to react physically.

“…Oh,” you say, for a lack of anything better. He looks a little awkward.

“Don’t mind it. It’ll go away on its own,” he mutters. You smile a little.

“I do not mind.”

Gently, you let your hand stray downwards. Levi inhales sharply through his teeth and grabs your wrist. He gives you a scandalised look.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you.” You turn around fully and it’s hard for him to keep his eyes in appropriate places. You grin a little.

“You said you do not want to do anything with me because of the risk of pregnancy. This will not risk it.”

“But-”

You give him a small look. Ignoring the way your heart thunders in your chest, nervous because you’ve never done anything like this, you move down to your knees.

“Little miss, what do you think you’re doing?” he asks, hand slipping into your hair to keep your face away from his bulging crotch.

“I will not force you, Levi,” you tell him honestly. You rest a hand on his thigh. “But if your reason for turning me down is not that you do not want me but rather, some ridiculous notion that my status as a royal makes you unworthy of my love, I will be sad.”

He sighs. You can see the conflicted lust in his eyes. He wants you. The mere sight of your naked body makes him thirst.

You look up at him and tilt your head with sultry playfulness. You don’t mind. You’d gladly let him use your mouth or hands. The only question is, will he let you.

He stares at you, his demons running rampage in his mind as he tries to make up his mind.

Then, finally, he shakes his head.

“You might get some powder on me. We can’t risk me glimmering as well.”

You shoulders slump with quiet disappointment and suddenly, you feel quite foolish. Insecure even. Ugly. Offering yourself to Levi, completely bare, just to be turned down. It stings.

Despite that, you smile bravely and get on your feet. You grab the rag and resume spreading the mixture on your skin.

“Let us keep going,” you say, voice light and conversational yet just a tad awkward.

Levi catches onto it.

“It’s not because I don’t want to,” he explains as he grabs his rug and starts rubbing the blue on your arms.

You don’t reply. You don’t need Levi licking your wounds for you. You know he loves you. But you also know that it hurts to be rejected by him.

But this is not a time for that conversation, so you swallow it all and nod.

You finish rubbing the mixture on every inch of your body. It takes a few minutes to absorb into your skin, after which it will be gleaming in the dark for twenty hours.

You have another some powder left should you need another application.

You get rid of the evidence and slip your nightgown back on. You move back to your bed. Levi comes out with a bowl of warm water and sprinkles droplets all over your body. You need to look sweaty and pained.

He gets rid of the water and comes back. You nod to him.

You’re ready.

Then, you let out a gurgling scream. Levi hurries to the door as you screech and writhe on the bed. He yanks it open and goes in the corridor, grabbing the first maid that walks by.

“The little miss is sick. Call an Elder, now,” he orders tensely. The maid squeaks and pulls her hand free from Levi’s touch, afraid for her Salvation, but she curtseys and hurries away either way.

A dozen minutes later an Elder comes in. You’re thrashing and tossing on the bed, convulsing as if having a seizure.

Your eyes are closed and you cover them with your hand.

The Elder, dressed in a black and white robe with a golden stag embroidered in the back, takes your wrist to check your pulse.

He looks at the sweat dripping down your temples and when he pulls the hand covering your eyes away and tries to force your eyes open, you immediately scream.

“No! Not the eyes! It burns! The light burns! Turn them off!“

The Elder frowns.

“I need to check the eyes. Draw the curtains and turn off most lights,” he tells the maids accompanying him. Levi’s leaning into the wall, watching quietly.

The moment the curtains are drawn and the Elder can see the soft glimmering on your skin, he gasps and steps back.

Eyes wide in shock, he sees patterns of blue and bronze, covering your whole body.

“Creator’s breath,” he whispers. You finally open your eyes and look at the Elder, panting and faking being delirious as best you can.

“I see him, Elder. I see Father. He came to me. I saw him ascend the Stairs of Salvation,” you feverishly explain. You hiss and writhe a little.

“My skin feels like it is on fire. Please help me, Elder. What is happening to me, I-?” You interrupt yourself to release a muffled scream as you pretend to be taken over by yet another wave of pain.

“Creator, Creator I hear you! Father!” you cry out, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“What’s wrong with her?” Levi asks. The two maids watch on in horror.

“Go get a priest,” the Elder tells one of the paralysed maids. “This is no illness I can cure. This is a sign from our Creator.”

The maid curtseys and zooms out of the room. The Elder places his hand over your forehead.

“You are warm.”

The mixture has absorbed to your skin and thus, there’s no smear on the Elder’s hand. You smile dreamily at him.

“I feel His warmth. The Creator is looking at me.”

His eyes widen a little and he pulls back when the priest comes in with the maid. His blue and bronze robes swish as he speedily walks to you.

“What has happened to you, child?” he asks. You look at his old, wrinkled face. His touch is soft and his hand cool as he places a hand on your cheek and looks over your glimmering skin.

“Priest,” you whisper with laboured breath. “I see him. I see… Father. And the Creator.”

At that, he looks taken aback.

“How could you possibly see our Creator when you are marked for Damnation?”

“Father… He told me I was chosen,” you grit your teeth and hiss as if in pain. “That he visited the Sacred Tree and there, the Creator gave him a sign that I was marked.”

The priest looks around your skin.

“This is clearly some kind of sign from our Creator,” he says. “He has bestowed his colours on your skin, child.”

“Is He punishing me?” you ask, gasping.

“He is known to strike people down in his fits of anger, but this is unheard of. He would not lend his sacred colours as a sign of anger,” he says, resolute.

“Fetch his excellency,” the father tells one of the maids. “You, go to the library and bring me the Scripture of Miracles, volume three,” he says to the other one.

Both of them curtsey and leave.

You pant and close your eyes.

“I see His light all around the room,” you confess with a weary voice. “It blinds me, but it is so beautiful.”

He nods.

“His light is truly beautiful, child.”

“Why do I see it? I’m marked for damnation,” you whisper. He shakes his head.

“You still bear the mark, child, yet you bask in his light. Maybe the Creator intends to make you a sacrifice.”

The maid returns with a heavy, golden book. The priest hurries to open it, shuffling through the pages. Just as he finds what he’s looking for, the door slams open.

Levi moves to block the way on instinct, but when he sees Sirius, he stands aside. Sirius looks at you on the bed and his eyes widen.

“Cora! What happened here?!”

“She is being touched by the Creator,” the priest announces solemnly. “Ah, as I surmised. _‘Those blessed few, allowed to bask in the glory of the Creator, those remarkable men shall find their way to greatness.’ _There is no doubt. The Creator is speaking to her.”

“You. Guard. When did this happen?” Sirius asks Levi with a frown. Levi looks up from where he had retreated lean on the wall, pretending to be utterly uninterested.

“I have no idea what happened. The bell started tolling outside and all of a sudden she just started writhing.”

“The bell?” The priest turns to Levi. “You mean the bell sounding to honour the departure of our King? Is that what you mean, Cursed Boy?”

“With ‘cursed’, you have a point, but ‘boy’ is too much,” Levi says with a click of his tongue. “I have no clue what the bell was chiming for. All I know is that the little miss started reacting the second it did.”

“It is a sign. Something related to his excellency. The Creator wants to signal something,” the priest says, animated.

It must be the closest he’s ever come to an actual holy event. It’s probably the highlight of his career. He can hardly contain himself.

“I see Father,” you croak. “Him, and all these lights. They will me with warmth and awe.”

“Did something happen, your excellency? Something related to his father?”

“She claimed to be a chosen one, that the Creator gave my father a sign that she is special, but I did not think it would be true. She is marked for Damnation-”

“Sometimes, the Creator graces us with someone marked for Sacrifice. Someone important who will ultimately meet their doom despite doing great deeds for the Creator. Such was the case of Luthian, the daughter of Paulos-”

“But she was marked for Damnation by birthright, not by her actions,” Sirius says, a little confused. He looks at your shining skin, the way you toss every now and they, delirious eyes glued to the corner of the room.

“Is she truly marked by the Creator?” Sirius asks the priests.

“It seems so, your excellency. I will have to garner my Brothers and retreat to the monastery to pray upon this. It is imperative we find out what the Creator is trying to signal.”

The priest has a hard time withholding his enthusiasm.

“My father,” you mumble from the bed. The priest hurries to you, so quickly he almost stumbles over his heavy robes. “He sent me to Varsiko to ensure the peace after a sign from the Creator. My mark of Damnation is not because of my own choice but my duties as his fiancée. I still love the Creator with all my heart.”

“The Creator has heard your pleas, child. This clearly means that even when carrying the mark, you are not without merit. He wants you to do great things for Him before your banishment.”

“I’m tired,” you sigh. “May I rest?”

“Yes, of course. Maybe you will see visions in your dream,” the priest hurries to agree. He turns to the others.

“She needs her rest. The Creator’s touch is physically draining. Your excellency.” He turns to Sirius who’s looking at you in the dim room. You can almost see his stubbornness slowly crack and give way to a small seed of doubt.

Maybe he was wrong to disbelieve you after all.

Sirius walks up to you and kneels down. He looks at you closely, hearing your ragged breath and seeing the droplets of sweat rolling down your face.

“Cora. Are you truly chosen by the Creator?” he asks. You loll your head to the side to look at you with your half-lidded eyes.

“I do not know what is happening, Sirius,” you tell him. Voice thin, you’re audibly scared. “But I feel warm. The light is blinding me, Sirius.”

He nods reluctantly and walks to the door.

The priest and maids exit after him and at the door, you hear him order for a maid to check on you every hour.

The door is closed and you wait in silence for the footsteps to recede. A minute of silence goes by before you dare to sit up and stifle a giggle.

“That went a lot better than I thought.”

“Agreed. Novarynians are one naïve bunch,” Levi shakes his head. He walks to the bed and sits on the edge.

“You did good with the acting.”

“I have seen enactments of holy possessions before. There are plenty of scriptures depicting them.”

You look at the swirls of blue and bronze on your skin, meshing together in small spirals here and there. You’ve got to give it to Hange, it looks convincing.

“What’s next?”

“We keep this up for as long as it takes. My brother will not change his mind easily. It might take more than twenty hours. If that is so, we need to re-apply the mixture tonight.”

It’s early morning now. You hope today is enough.

-

The day goes by as you expected it to. Hordes upon hordes of priests walk in to witness the miracle for themselves. You hear endless arguments between monks and priests about what your markings mean.

Your mother visits a few times and she seems to have mixed feelings about you being marked yet still touched by the Creator. Sirius comes in and has a few private chats with you. You have talks, though you do your best to not arouse suspicion by pushing for peace aggressively.

You want the priests to feel like they came up with the interpretation of what the Creator wants. Makes them more likely to accept it.

You refuse all food and drink except a little hot water with chamomile extract.

Come nightfall, the priests announce they will need to spend the night praying and conversing with the monks to truly understand the miracle, but that they strongly suspect it has something to do with your father.

Such as the fact that he sent you to Varsiko to uphold peace and that Sirius is now interfering with that will by intending to resume the war.

You stay in bed most of the night, but when the last of the maids have been gone for a couple of hours and the night approaches wee hours, you finally sit up.

“Let us get the mixture ready and move to the bathroom,” you say. Levi nods.

He goes to grab the powder you have left in your bag. There’s about half left.

“We need to get the patterns exactly right,” you tell Levi. He nods as he takes out two small basins.

You fill them with water and mix in the powder, comparing the shade with the one on your skin. You want the same consistency.

You throw off your nightgown, toss two rags in the basins once you’ve confirmed the shade is right in both using the darkness.

You’re just about to move to the bathroom when something you didn’t expect happens.

You freeze, eyes wide and heart jolting into your throat, as the door suddenly cracks open.

“I’m sorry to interfere, I know her grace is probably sleeping, but the Elder sent me to give her a dose of chamomile extract-“

Levi’s on his feet before you have time to form a coherent thought. He draws his rifle and points it straight at the head of the maid who just walked into your room.

She stops dead in her tracks as she takes in the scene. She was expecting you to be sleeping and for her to have to wake you up and make you drink the steaming cup of warm water in her hand.

Instead, she sees you on the bed, topless. The two vases on the bedside table, glistening in the dimness with blue and bronze. The rags soaking in the water. The way the glint on your skin has dulled just a little.

You watch the quiet realisation spread to her face. She takes a step back, but Levi’s way ahead of her.

“Don’t even think of bolting-”

She’s not listening. She turns and runs right back out of the door, dropping the cup in the process.

Immediately, your heart freezes. She’ll go tell your brother. Your cover will be busted, just like that, and any hopes of peace you’ve regained the past day will be down the drain.

Levi sprints after her and outside, you hear the sounds of struggle. The maid lets out muffled screams, but luckily your quarters are so far away no one is likely to hear her.

A minute later, Levi drags her back in just as you’re finishing pulling your nightgown back on. You move to the edge of the bed and slowly get back on your feet.

Levi’s covered the maid’s mouth. You look at her, from head to toe. She looks to be relatively young. Her blue maid’s dress is a tad too baggy on her. You remember her face. She served as one of your chamber maids when you still lived in the castle. Her name escapes you, but you remember her face.

She always braided your hair just a little too loose, a fact you enjoyed since your scalp is rather sensitive.

“You can let her go, Levi. Just watch the door,” you tell him. He nods and removes his hands. Immediately, the maid scrambles away.

“Stay away from me, beast of Black Science,” she hisses venomously, though more than once her eyes worriedly flicker to Levi’s sword and rifle.

“What is your name?” you ask, trying to get her to calm down.

“…Lottie.”

“Lottie.” You’re not sure how to continue the conversation. What can you even say? She caught you red-handed.

Levi, unaffected by her cutting words, turns to you.

“She saw.”

“I know,” you tell him tensely. You look at the maid. She’s clearly restless and afraid, but there is a mistakable air of disgust she looks at Levi with.

“Lottie,” you start again. Maybe you can win her over if you just make the right appeal. “I take it you know what I was doing.”

“You’re trying to scam Prince Sirius, is what you were doing,” she answers warily. “Spreading some kind of Black Science on your skin to make it shine so.”

“Yes,” you admit. There’s no point in trying to lie to her. “My brother does not believe I was chosen by the Creator, so I lied to him to make him believe it. But I’m not lying about being chosen. My father told me I was.”

“I see.” She doesn’t look convinced in the least. The only thing keeping her mouth shut is the fact that she’s overpowered.

“No, you do not understand, my father, he visited the Sacred Tree…” You trail off. She looks at you. She doesn’t argue but it’s obvious she’s not going to believe you.

You sigh.

“I know. It sounds ludicrous. The thirteenth princess, sent away as a sacrificial lamb, comes back to defend the peace claiming she is some kind of chosen one. Especially after my father was killed and I’m trying to convince Sirius not to retaliate.”

She doesn’t answer, merely looks at you. Her face is bland. She does not care about the big picture.

“I recognise you, Lottie. You were one of my chambermaids.”

“Yes.”

You’re racking your brain, trying to think of anything you could say to make her feel secure, even if deep down you know there is nothing you can fix this with.

She’s already made up her mind. You’re just grasping at straws that won’t hold.

“I want to end this war. I want to uphold peace, for Novaryn’s sake,” you find yourself trying still. Maybe she will understand how important this is. “Have you not lost anything to this war?”

She shakes her head.

Right, she grew up in the west. For West Novarynians, the war is a distant reality. They don’t realise the full extent of what’s going on in the east.

“This peace means so much to me, Lottie,” you say quietly. She shifts her eyes from you to the side, trying to see where Levi is behind her.

“Can you promise me that you will not babble?”

“Yes. I promise.”

It’s all over her face. She will go to your brother the second she’s out of the room. You feel a knot in your stomach, tightening with each passing second.

You nod.

“Grab her.”

Immediately, she tries to scream but Levi’s way ahead of her. He grabs her, one strong hand keeping her arms back, the other covering her mouth.

“She’s a liability. We can’t allow her to-“

“I know,” you sigh.

“I’ll drag her out and get rid of her.”

In Levi’s arms, the maid starts thrashing even more. Her eyes widen and she looks at you pleadingly.

She doesn’t want to die.

Your eyes soften with compassion. You get it. You’ve been in the same situation, you’ve had that same panicked fire to your eyes.

You turn to your bedside table where you have your refused dinner. They served it with a bottle of wine to share between you and Levi. Neither of you touched it.

You grab the wine and approach the maid.

“Release her mouth.”

As he does, she immediately starts pleading. Eyes wide and startled, she looks like a deer ready to bolt.

“Please, your grace, I will not speak. Just let me go, and I will pretend like I never saw anything. I’m begging you, I do not want to-” She cuts herself off with a panicked sob.

“Here. Take a sip. It will calm your nerves,” you tell her. You uncork the bottle and bring it to her lips.

She sobs.

“Shh. It is going to be okay.”

You bring the bottle to your own lips and sip.

“See? It is not poisoned. Have a sip. We both need to calm down so we can talk it out.”

You see a hopeful hue return to her eyes. Perhaps you won’t silence her after all. She opens her mouth and allows you to pour a generous amount into her mouth, eager to stay on your good side.

You then turn to walk back to your bed and put the bottle back next to the half-eaten tray of dinner. You take a deep breath. You notice it shudders a little.

Still, your face is calm and clear as you turn to Levi and the maid again.

“We cannot talk here. I do not trust no one will come by. Let us change places. Please refrain from screaming outside or we will be forced to kill you.”

She hurries to nod. You push on a pair of slippers and cover your arms with a scarf. From the desk, you take a lantern and walk to the door.

“Keep her calm and quiet but do not use force unless she gives you reason to,” you tell Levi as you pass him by.

He looks a little puzzled but says nothing. He trusts your judgment.

You lead the way through the quiet castle. Having grown up here and sneaked away more than once to the breezy fields outside, you know your way around.

You skulk in the corridor. Every now and then, you halt when you hear passing footsteps but luckily, no one sees you as you steadily climb up to the library wing. Your skin is getting dimmer, the shine is so weak it’s hard to see from far away anymore.

You should be fine.

It’s dark and empty in the library wing this time of night. The scholars and monks who gather here, mostly to read sacred texts, usually retreat to their chambers come evening prayer.

You pass by the door leading to the maze-like library, far larger and better stocked than the one in Rekanon Castle. Instead, you climb up another old, narrow set of stairs until you come to a balcony near the top.

You open the door and lead the way inside. Levi follows.

You look out. You can see some guards, patrolling further away down in the yard but no one will hear or see you when you’re up this high. You turn to the maid.

“You can release her, Levi.”

As he obeys, the maid rubs her wrists and gives you a wary glance.

“Why are we here?”

“This is the furthest I can get from the more heavily patrolled areas. No one will hear us talk here.”

“What do you wish to talk about?”

“Promise to be honest with me,” you start and look out to the dark castle grounds. You always preferred this place come night. Less whispers following your trail. Less sun and noise.

Were you Lune, you would have happily made do with the night.

“I promise.” Not because she wants to but because she has no other choice.

“When you were my chambermaid, what did you think of me? Did you secretly hate me?” You look at her, eyes clear and steady. She looks a bit confused.

“You were just a royal among the others, your grace. I did not really feel anything for you. I’m a chambermaid. My job is to serve.”

“Surely you heard rumours about me.”

“Sure did. I thought they were entertaining.”

“Entertaining? Is that all?” You blink at her. She relaxes a little when you’re not moving to harm her. She shrugs non-committally.

“What is there to think about? The rest of the royal family did not like you or your mother. The gossip made for interesting mealtime conversations.”

You hum. You don’t know why, but you expected something more. Some kind of burning distaste, or conspiracy among the servants.

Then again, why would they care? So long as you’re decent towards them, what do they care whether they serve you or someone else?

Maybe you’re just looking for some kind of excuse.

You look out to the Twin Mountains.

“Where are you from, Lottie?”

“Here. Born and raised in Genesia City, your grace.”

“I see.”

You turn to her and smile. Your eyes are shining tenderly.

“I’m really sorry, Lottie.”

“For wh-”

Before she can answer and catch on, you’ve moved in. Both arms extended, you push her over the railing.

You’re thirty-four meters off the ground. It takes a few seconds for you to hear the sickening thump as she hits the field below. The sound of bones crunching, puncturing her organs. She likely died immediately.

The guards will find her when they pass by in about a dozen minutes. They’ll examine her body and note that her breath smells of wine. They will most likely rule her death a drunken accident and move on without investigation.

You release a long exhale. It reminds you of that night. The one you felt like would never end. You get a strong memory. The smell of blood. The weight of his body.

Only, it’s different now.

You didn’t hesitate this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I know it's been over a month. I don't really have an excuse, I've struggled a lot with writing and also worked on all the updates at once which led to me finishing none of them so there's that.
> 
> That being said, here we have a new update. Some Novarynian mythology, some scam artist realness, and Cora voluntarily getting her hands dirty. Poor maid.
> 
> I'd love to hear from you. I dunno why, but lately I've been feeling kind of down in terms of my writing. I'll keep fighting the struggle and hopefully, I can turn the patchy inspiration I've had into something more consistent. Either way, I'd love to hear your thoughts, or just a simple "hi I read this".
> 
> Hopefully the next chapter will be up sooner, sorry for the delay!  
Until next time!


	20. A Beast

Levi stays quiet as you return to your quarters. Your face is completely void of emotions, your eyes shining with silent determination.

You feel for the maid, but you don’t regret what you’ve done. You can’t afford to.

You make it back inside. The basins are where you left them. You glance at the shattered cup on the floor.

“Let us finish re-applying the powder.”

“I could have gotten rid of her in your stead.”

“I know.”

“You didn’t have to push her yourself.”

“I know.”

You yank your night gown off and take one of the basins. You evade his eyes and go in the bathroom.

“Let us get this done.”

Levi takes the other basin and follows you to the bathroom.

You sit down on the cold marble. In silence, you start re-applying the mixture.

Your heart is still thundering in your chest. You wonder if they found her by now. If someone will come ask questions in the morning.

You wonder if she has family. You wonder how hard her mother will cry when she hears the news. You wonder if you’d regret what you’ve done had you not already slipped in so deep.

You’ve given up too much for this peace. What’s one life added on top?

You finish applying the mixture in complete silence. Levi keeps an eye on you as you step out and put the nightgown back on.

You slip between the covers as Levi cleans the cup and gets rid of the evidence.

You only have tomorrow left to convince Sirius. You can only hope it’s enough.

You curl up under the blankets and close your eyes. Unlike the first time around, when you slit the throat of that guard, this time the images don’t invade you. You’re not in shock.

“Levi,” you call to the room.

“Yes?”

“Do you regret it when you kill someone?”

“Sometimes.”

You turn over to your back and stare at the ceiling.

“Who was the first person you killed?”

“Some Novarynian soldier. I don’t know his name.”

“Was his only sin to be born in Novaryn?”

“No. His sin was to fight for Novaryn.”

“I do not feel anything. I know I should feel bad for her, yet my mind is void of such thoughts. She was in my way, so I disposed of her. Should that scare me?”

“Depends who you ask.”

“Come here, please.”

He walks to the bed and sits on the edge. He looks over your pensive face. You move your arm on top of the blanket, leaving your hand open next to him. An invitation.

He takes your hand without a word.

“What would I do without you, Levi?” You smile bitterly at yourself. How lost would you be had Levi not decided your cause is worth following?

“Do you stay by my side because of me or the peace?” You squeeze his hand gently in yours. It’s larger than yours and slightly cool. Must be the cold metal running in his blood.

“Both. Were you actively trying to sabotage Varsiko, I would not do your bidding.”

“Even if you fell in love with me?” You glance at him curiously.

“Yes.”

You look at your joined hands. The soft glimmering of your skin, the contrast against his dark and cool hand.

“I love you, Levi.”

He doesn’t answer. You move your free hand to grab his neck and pull him in, on top of you. He looks wary, his dark eyes are glinting just a little in the light of your skin.

“I’m scared of what I’m becoming, Levi. Or rather, I’m scared of the fact I’m not scared,” you confess, your voice just a bit tight. “The more this wicked conflict goes on and the more I need to bleed my humanity into trying to solve this mess that I had no part in initiating, the less I feel like myself.”

“Little miss, I-”

You want none of that. You don’t want to be “little miss” right now. You want to be Cora. A human. A person whose heart hums and sings every time she’s near the man she loves.

You interrupt him by leaping up and kissing him. Demanding, you rake your teeth against his lips, tilt your head with desperation as you try to get closer to him.

The slight buzz instantly settles in your mind. His lips leave ripples of warmth in their wake and slowly, you feel your emotions returning.

You caress his arms and pull him closer. It’s as if he’s sensed you really need this. He doesn’t put up a fight, doesn’t break away to start his usual preach about how it’s unbecoming of you.

He allows you to be a human being instead of a princess.

You reach between you and basically rip the blanket out of the way. You hug him close, buttery soft lips tasting his, savouring the little bit of dry rasp you find.

His strong body pins you down. He answers the kiss for a precious moment.

You almost whimper when he finally breaks away. Instantly, you’re overcome with deep anxiety. You don’t want to feel his warmth leave you.

When he doesn’t leave the bed but instead, moves next to you and gently guides you to your side, head resting against his chest, you immediately relax.

You close your eyes and breathe in his scent. Earthy yet sweet, musky yet gentle. The scent of danger, of galloping horses and drawn swords. But also the scent of safety, of comfort and stability.

It’s oddly comforting.

“Is loving me a curse to you, Levi?” you ask against the coarse fabric of his uniform. Immediately, he slips a loving hand in your hair and presses you a bit tighter against himself.

“Don’t be silly.”

“I sometimes want to run away. Just grab you, elope, run away and leave these two countries to sort out the mess by themselves.”

“A very understandable urge.”

Levi’s arm locks around your waist, keeping you tight against him. He stays quiet, and you can sense he’s thinking about something.

“Tell me,” you urge gently.

“It’s odd. I feel more at ease right now than I’ve ever felt anywhere else.”

You chuckle softly and press a small kiss over his heartbeat.

“Me, too.”

You fall asleep to the sound of his slow heartbeat.

-

When Sirius steps inside in the morning, waking you up, Levi’s long since left the bed. He’s standing by the door as per usual.

Sirius pauses to look over you on the bed. You sit up with a sleepy moan and stretch your arms.

“What brings you here?” you ask and rub your eyes. You try to sound like you’re still a little out of it but recovering.

Sirius gives Levi a short look. You nod to him. He steps out to mind the door with Sirius’ guard. Sirius waits until the door closes after him before speaking up.

“How are you faring?” he asks and sits down on the edge of your bed. He gently touches your forehead.

“Better than yesterday,” you murmur and give him a weak smile. “What is happening?”

“The monks and priests have been meditating and studying the scriptures all night trying to figure out what this sign means. They have come to a conclusion on what the Creator wants.”

You try not to sound too eager.

“Yes?”

“They concluded the Creator has marked you as a sign that your bidding is just. They advised me to cease preparations for warfare or I will risk losing His favour.”

You could faint from relief. All of a sudden, it gets easier to breathe. You give him a smile.

“I told you, Sirius. I have always wanted nothing but to adhere to His will. I may be marked for Damnation, but I’m not lost. I’m willingly giving up my soul for Him.”

“And for that, I admire your will, Cora,” Sirius sighs. His eyes soften and he cups your cheek. You see the sorrow in his eyes. It pains him to see you like this, marked like a pig for slaughter.

“Alright, then. I shall do as He says. At least we got Father’s remains back. You may not understand the significance of it, but for me…” Sirius trails off with a thoughtful frown.

“I miss Father. I never wanted to take the throne this soon,” he confesses. You nod and place your hand on his. Taking it off your face, you gently squeeze it.

“I know. He was unfairly taken too early.”

“Did he say anything? Any last words?” he asks. You can see the kindling hope in his eyes.

“No. It was too quick. By the time I got to him, he was already gone.”

“And the killer?”

“A freckled woman. I recall seeing her here working as a maid. She was obviously a Varsikovian spy.”

“And you are convinced she was not working for the Czar or Admiral Zackly?”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

You leave out the part where you know exactly who to blame. You know better than telling Sirius unless you need to. You will deal with Zeke yourself and you don’t want his war mongering to discourage Sirius from the peace.

“How do you know?” he presses.

“You will just have to trust me on this. I have an inkling, but I cannot tell you before I have substantiated it. But I can promise you I will take down the party responsible for Father’s murder.”

He looks at your clear, unwavering eyes. The confidence you carry yourself with.

“You have changed, Cora,” he finally says. “In more ways than one.”

He hums and glues his eyes to your joint hands.

“When I found out you were being sent to Varsiko, I did not think you would last. I expected you to ask to return every time I would hear from you. I did not expect this.”

He smiles in a self-deprecating way.

“How come you became so much better at this when I was the one blessed with Father’s guidance?”

You shake your head.

“No, Sirius. I became what I am because I had to. What separates you from me are the circumstances. Had you been in my place, you would have changed, too.”

Sirius looks regretful. He pulls you into a hug. A hug you recognise instantly. The softness and comfort you used to be so attached to, one of the only bits of love you felt from your family.

Sirius and your mother were the two people you could never picture yourself getting by without. Yet somehow, the touch of both now feels out of place.

“Do not lose yourself, Cora,” Sirius murmurs into your hair. “You are my dear little sister that I have grown up loving and protecting. I do not want to see us grow apart because of this war. Please know you will always have a place to come home to, no matter what.”

“I know.”

It’s a safe haven you’re happy to have, even if you will never sail back to it.

Sirius leaves a bit later. Your mother visits you as well, she’s proud you’ve been chosen by the Creator yet the knowledge of your demise after death somewhat dampens that joy.

You humour her but keep your distance. You feel for her situation but it doesn’t erase the fact that you’re living in a completely different world from hers now.

Come nightfall, you’re left alone with your thoughts again. You sit on the balcony looking out to the Twin Mountains and as the shimmer of your skin dies down, you press a hand on your forehead and another over your chest.

The prayer offers less comfort than Levi’s gentle hand as he pats the top of your head and shepherds you to bed.

-

One of your sisters is falling asleep next to you.

You see her nodding off from the corner of your eye and hear her deepening breathing.

At the front of the ceremony hall of the Royal Monastery, your brother is veiled in all bronze. There are jewels hanging from his neck, his fingers are stacked full of holy rings. He’s kneeling by the Head Priest, hands on his forehead and chest.

The priest, dressed in a long silk robe of brilliant azure colour, is standing next to him. Hand over the back of Sirius’ head, he’s in a trance-like prayer. His voice echoes through the quiet hall as he chants.

You sit obediently still on top of your cushions. The candles all around you make the air warm, and the incense smell is thick and intrusive. The whole hall is glistening in the sunlight as the heavy curtains have been drawn, a rare occasion.

You don’t blame your sister for getting sleepy. This has been going on for hours at this point.

As per Novarynian customs, a coronation is only complete when the head priest feels like he’s prayed enough for the Creator give the new regime His favour.

Sometimes it takes mere minutes. Such as in cases where the new King has long been expected to soon take the throne and he’s considered a mature and fit leader.

In the case of Sirius, he’s hardly pushing thirty, his education was unfinished and your father was unexpectedly removed from the picture.

Thus, it’s no surprise the coronation is expected to take most of today.

The crown is sitting on a blue cushion next to Sirius and the priest. Glittering in the sunlight, the plump sapphires lining the rim are so bright they hurt your eyes.

Even though you know your soul will no longer find any solace here, the familiar sight of the monastery is still comforting to you. A place you’ve spent so much of your childhood in. How many tears have these walls contained?

Yet now that you know your soul can no longer be salvaged, the monastery has a new meaning. The performative edge is gone.

Now, it’s just a place of quiet thoughts.

You’re set to return tomorrow. As per is customary, Sirius will ride out to meditate by the Sacred Tree straight from the monastery and isn’t expected to return in a few weeks. There’s no reason for you to stay any longer.

Levi is waiting in your quarters. He’s not allowed in the monastery.

The prayer goes on for another few hours and when the Head Priest finally stands up and nods to the crowd, you hear a sea of restless shifting sounds. People are eager to get out of the monastery.

The priests and monks in the front rows sit obediently still and alert. As per usual, the Respected are at the front, with the other priests in the second row and monks in the third.

In your row, your sisters and stepmothers are trying not to look too happy about being finally allowed to leave. You look around the fourth row, at the sea of faces you grew up seeing around the castle but never truly became familiar with. Next to you, your mother is deep in prayer.

Behind you are the rest of the attendees, mostly nobles from all around Novaryn and a few diplomats from friendly nations.

The Head Priest takes the carefully polished crown, made of rose gold. He places it over Sirius’ dark hair.

“Rise, 258th Monarch of Novaryn, blessed by the Creator. May your reign be long and just.”

You get on your feet. You hear a few people hiss and stumble, their legs dead from sitting on their knees for hours on end. You place a hand on your forehead and another on your chest. You bow in unison with the rest, welcoming Sirius as the new ruler.

He walks outside. You follow him in an orderly fashion. In the yard, his horse is already waiting for him. A tall, marble white stallion. Sirius pauses to wave at the crowd gathering at the windows and doorways. Further away, at the castle gates, you can see masses of peasants craning their necks, hoping to see even a glimpse.

Sirius only glances at you, giving you a small nod and smile. He paused by your room last night to say his goodbyes.

He mounts his ride and starts moving towards the back gates, the ones leading straight to the woods and wilderness. His stewards follow along with a few monks sent to guide his way.

You watch him disappear. He’ll have to take a narrow route between the Twin Mountains. No one aside from the monks tending to the tree knows where the Sacred Tree lies. All you know is that it’s somewhere deep north-west.

As Sirius leaves your view, the people around you start scattering, most heading towards the castle for a late lunch. The coronation started at dawn and continued well into the afternoon.

You’re starving as well. You give your mother a small smile.

“Let us go eat.”

Before you can, you’re stopped by a woman.

“Your grace, please. Just a minute of your time.”

You pause to look at her. She’s dressed relatively simple, with a brown cook’s outfit and a white apron. Her brown hair is pulled back on a ponytail and you can see her age and the years of hard labour on her wrinkled face.

“What is it?” you ask and give her a neutral, well-meaning look.

“Thank you, your grace. I was- I was just wondering if three nights ago, you saw my daughter, Lottie.”

You freeze for just a split second. Not long enough for her to catch onto it.

“Lottie? Is she one of my chambermaids?”

“Yes, your grace. She was sent to bring you chamomile water. She was… She was found dead.”

“Oh.” You blink, looking a little confused. “If someone was sent to bring me chamomile water, I never received it. I slept undisturbed through the night.”

“They say she got drunk and fell off the balcony. I do not believe it, your grace. My Lottie would never- She was a good girl and obedient maid. She would not leave her duties unfulfilled just to run off and indulge herself like this!”

You see the tears glistening in the old woman’s eyes. She’s yearning for answers. A peace of mind.

You want to tell her Lottie did nothing wrong. That her only sin was to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

You want to soothe her pain but you can’t.

“I’m afraid I do not know anything about it,” you tell her, voice laced with sympathy but there’s a certain aloof tinge to it, relaying to her that while you feel for her, you’re not interested in looking into it.

Her shoulders slump. She blinks back a few tears.

“Alright. Thank you for your time, your grace,” she whispers. Swallowing her sobs, she turns to walk away.

“Come, Cora,” your mother tells you. She doesn’t think much of the exchange.

You follow her back inside, shouldering the weight of your conscience.

-

As expected, the only person seeing you off is your mother. She bids you farewell teary-eyed. Some peasants gather around to see, but they are more interested in Levi than you.

You board the boat near midday and set sail back to Varsiko.

As you leave the shore behind, you release a long exhale. Staring out to the sea, it’s clear and sunny if not a bit windy. You sense Levi’s presence behind you.

You didn’t tell him about Lottie’s mother but you’ve thought about her more than once since yesterday. Each time, the sting of guilt gets easier to bear.

“I did it,” you say.

“You did.”

Levi steps up to stand next to you. You don’t touch each other out of fear of the sailors seeing you, but you sense his quiet approval.

“Do I get a reward?“ you ask playfully and glance at him. The wind blows his hair back from his face.

He looks gorgeous.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, little miss,” Levi scoffs. Feeling no eyes on you, he quickly reaches a hand to pat your head.

As you step out of the boat a few hours later, you’re surprised to see Zeke waiting for you. Instantly wary, you glance at Levi.

“I wonder if he is here to taunt me or to congratulate me for undoing his plot,” you mutter under your breath. There are some townsfolk gathered around the docks, eager to see you return.

You remind yourself to visit Hange and thank her for giving you the powder. Without that, your efforts would have been moot.

You walk up to Zeke and curtsey, giving him your trained and empty smile. He deserves no authenticity from you.

“Your grace, what gives me the honour?”

“I’m here in your fiancé’s stead. He’s indisposed.”

You raise an eyebrow. Indisposed?

You know better than asking him out in the open. Instead, you climb in the carriage with him and to your surprise, he doesn’t say anything as Levi joins you.

So, he’s not planning on trying to get handsy this time.

Levi and Reiner stare each other down as the carriage starts pulling you towards the castle.

You look outside, of the sturdy and conveniently built square buildings that make up most of Rekanon, Varsiko’s capital. Unlike Genesia City, which was allowed to accumulate millennia of history undisturbed and thus has a real diversity to its architecture, Rekanon was raided and burnt to the ground more than once during the last hundred years.

You wonder what kind of culture and heritage Varsiko would create had it not been on constant survival mode.

_Song of Steel_ told you a little bit of Varsiko of the past. Proud and fierce horsemen, nimble fishermen, eager adventurers. Always curious to find and utilise new information.

Now, war is their whole heritage.

You rip your eyes off the bleak streets and meet Zeke’s gaze head on.

“What happened to my fiancé?”

“He was hunting when his horse suddenly spooked and tossed him off its back. He suffered a few broken bones.”

“What was the horse spooked by?” you ask.

“We don’t know. Poor thing just started bucking out of nowhere.”

Zeke doesn’t sound too concerned and there’s a light nonchalance to his tone that immediately makes you suspicious.

“Where did this happen?”

“In the woods,” he repeats.

“Where exactly?”

“Pet, I wasn’t tracking our route. I wouldn’t know.”

“You were there?”

You disregard the name even though you notice it makes Levi tense up next to you. Zeke gives you a lazy once-over.

“Yes, I was.”

You have too little information, so you keep your mouth shut for now. But something tells you to look into it. You give Levi a glance. He catches and returns it.

“Good job maintaining the peace,” Zeke congratulates you. His tone is conversational, but you can hear the discontent loud and clear.

You cock your chin up and give him a cold look.

“Thank you, your grace.”

“I’m curious to see what happens now. How long you can keep up this charade.”

“Who knows? Maybe it is permanent this time.”

Zeke laughs. A hollow, glacial laugh that makes your hair stand on end.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, pet. You’ll lose, sooner or later.”

“By all means, keep barking if it makes you feel better, your grace. It does not affect me.”

“I’ll shatter your precious peace, pet,” Zeke says. He reaches a hand, but Levi swats it away before it reaches you.

It’s your time to laugh.

“And I will bring you down, Zeke Yeager,” you say. “This is the only piece of advice I will give you: do not underestimate me. It has cost you, perhaps more than any of your other mistakes.”

His eyes gain a shade of amusement.

“Getting confident, are we? Well, that doesn’t matter. Makes it all the more satisfying when I finally have you collared and chained.”

Your eyes light up with quiet disgust. You lean over, closer and closer until your nose is almost touching his.

He looks back. Amused and cold yet there’s also something unmistakable in the way his eyes flutter, just slightly, to your lips.

You perch a gentle hand on his chest and move your head until your breath hits his earlobe.

“Dream on,” you purr, openly taunting him. “It is all but evident it is you who is in my leash. Or how do you explain the hunger that lights up in your eyes every time you grossly glaze me with your lecherous gaze?”

He groans, and you recognise the sound. It’s the same kind of groan Levi releases every time you’re driving him crazy.

Zeke moves to grab you, taken over by his lust, but you’re ahead of him. You pull back, dodge his lips and sit back down.

“Do not get too ahead of yourself, Zeke Yeager,” you tell him dully, your earlier sultriness completely gone.

You look at the way his breathing is a little off. He looks at you and you can see the unnerving urge to ravish you, seeded deep into his eyes.

“You may think of yourself as great and powerful, but you are still a beast. Driven by greed and lust, you seek to overpower me and bend me to your will. I will say this right now: I will never yield.”

Zeke has gathered himself, and he chuckles.

“You will, pet. All your stunts do is slow me down. I cannot be stopped.”

“Your arrogance will be your downfall.”

“We’ll see about that, darling.”

You resist the urge to spit in his face again.

You sense Levi’s tenseness next to you. You can tell he wanted to rip you back when you leaned in. It was his trust in you that halted his hands.

As soon as you return to the castle, you step out of the carriage. Giving Zeke a stiff curtsey, you hurry inside. You’re eager to get out of his company. You feel his eyes on your back.

“Please take my luggage to my quarters and ask Maid Springer to unpack for me and prepare a warm bath. I will check on my fiancé before retiring for the night,” you tell one of the maids the moment you step inside. She nods and swiftly walks off.

You ascend the stairs to Eren’s quarters. It feels odd being back, you already got a little used to the blue and bronze of Genesia Castle.

You see the maids and soldiers dressed in grey and red. Even the way they move is different. More urgent. People inside Genesia Castle seem more aimless and less pressured.

You arrive at Eren’s quarters. Mikasa’s standing guard outside as per usual and when she sees you, she nods.

“He’s expecting you,” she says and opens the door. You look a bit confused.

“Expecting me?”

“Yes.”

You’re admitted inside. Eren’s room is just as you recall it, just a bit messier than last time. You glance at the large painting on the wall and the impressive pile of war novels.

Eren’s in his bed. Leaning against the headboard, he’s reading a book. Upon seeing you, he nods to Mikasa. She closes the door after you and Levi.

“Good, you came right away.”

He’s bandaged up in multiple places. His arm and head are both wrapped up tight and every time he moves, he lets out a small groan of pain.

“Grab a chair and sit down. Your guard should go mind the door with Mikasa. I don’t want anyone hearing.”

Levi settles next to Mikasa by the door, listening intently to the discussion.

You walk to the desk, move a pile of parchments and novels off the chair and then grab it. You bring it to Eren’s bed and sit down.

“What happened?”

“Zeke’s not happy you somehow miraculously managed to keep the peace,” he tells you matter-of-factly.

“You mean he-”

“He didn’t try to kill me. Just to forcefully postpone the wedding.” Eren sighs. He looks at you, calm but a little annoyed. As if blaming you for roping him into this mess.

Figures. He’s lived a pretty carefree live up until now. He’s not the heir apparent, he’ll remain a czarevich for the rest of his days.

You can relate to that. You yourself never wanted to take on the task of looking out for the common good. Had you not been sent here, you would have been much like Eren.

“He is very opposed to the marriage. Do you know why?”

“If you marry into the family, that gives you the legal protection extended to all of the czar’s family,” Eren replies, groaning as he adjusts himself on the bed. “That means that even in the case of war, you’ll be entitled to your freedom as well as access to classified military documents.”

You hum with a thoughtful frown. Should you marry Eren and Zeke managed to re-ignite the conflict, you would still roam free and could gather classified intel to either try and stop him or to relay it to Novaryn.

“How long have you known that Zeke wants to resume the war?”

“Ever since he tasked Historia with getting rid of you.”

“Who knows about his plan?”

“Beats me. My dad sure doesn’t. Admiral Zackly might.”

You cross your legs and give Eren a wary look.

“You are awfully calm about your brother causing you to get so severely injured.”

Eren snorts loudly. He gives you a glare. You meet his eyes just to see them flicker down to your wrist where he can see the ribbon.

“I’m not blind. I know what kind of person he is. He’ll do nearly anything to get his way.”

“Why does he want to resume the war?” You lean in a little. He rolls his eyes.

“Haven’t asked. It’s not like we’re close. Evidently,” he emphasizes with a snarky tone.

You feel tempted to tell him to drop the attitude but it’s not worth the effort. Nonetheless, it’s during moments like these when you feel your age difference. He’s obviously younger than you. A lot younger than Levi.

“So, what do you suggest we do about it?” you ask.

“I’ve pushed back against the notion of postponing the wedding. I know better than slandering my brother to my father. Instead, I opted to tell him I’ve come to be fond of you.”

At that, you pause to give him a slow look.

“Your mother knows about you and Historia,” you point out.

“She knows better than telling Father.”

“And the Czar bought that you are in love, just very clumsy at expressing it?” you ask in disbelief.

“Yes. He laughed and told me he had an inkling since he has gone through youth himself.”

“If there is one sin your father possesses it is being too trusting of those around him,” you say, exasperated.

You and Eren had approached marriage with the mutual understanding that it would be purely political. Now, he wants you to act like you’re suddenly in love?

“Why would you say that to the Czar?”

“With the peace secured, our marriage was no longer a pressing issue to my father. Plus, Zeke hinted that initiating a scandal by exposing my and Historia’s infidelity was not off the cards.”

“And you think your father will believe you over him now that you have told him you feel for me?”

“Who cares what my father thinks,” Eren groans. “All I care about it convincing the peasants and castle folks. If they truly believe we’re in love, Zeke will cause public disapproval by accusing me and his faithful wife of a conspiracy.”

“That makes sense. But that does not explain why you would go to such lengths to make this marriage happen when you were never fond of it,” you reply and tilt your head.

“I’m not doing it for you,” Eren counters right away. “I don’t care what happens to your country.”

“That much has become painfully clear, thank you,” you answer coolly. “I will assume it is for Historia, then.”

“If the war resumes, Nambala will be extorted even harder. It’s on the verge of collapse as is.”

“So, you want to pick my side to protect her interests?”

“Yes.”

Well, it’s a motivation you can trust to hold. It seems like Eren and Historia have been together for quite some time.

“I’ve already made arrangements. We’ll go out in two days’ time. We’ll be shopping and walking around, all lovey-dovey so that the rumour mill starts running.”

“Alright. And when is the wedding?”

“In a week’s time.”

You ignore the choked sound Levi makes at the door. You’re too busy staring incredulously at Eren.

“A week’s time.”

“Yes.”

“And the Czar has given his blessing?”

“Yes.”

You take a deep breath, pushing aside the hesitation stemming from the fact that somewhere deep down, you always held onto the hope of marrying someone you love.

You think of Zeke, the infuriating grin on his face and how you’d love to dwarf yet another of his schemes.

You’d be a fool to not make a proper ally out of Eren.

“Alright. Let us do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my dearest!
> 
> I finally managed to push through with this update ^^ Reader has returned to Varsiko and is thrown right in the middle of some sibling drama. Zeke revealed a bit more of himself, namely that he's not above harming his family to get his way. Ruthless motherfucker. And thirsty af.
> 
> I hope you're all doing well even though the world's still shit. Comments, as always, make me extremely happy during these stressful times and they're the fuel I use for writing. Well, that and tea.
> 
> Stay safe, until next time!


	21. Krista

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tasteful smut? Never heard of her.
> 
> Look away children ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Levi falls into heavy step behind you. You don’t need to turn and address him to know he’s riled up. The aura is oozing off of him. The struggle to accept things, the heartbreak.

The anger.

You say nothing. You feel the ribbon around your wrist, it suddenly feels so tight it could cut your circulation.

One week before the wedding. And to add insult to injury, you have to convince everyone around you the reason for the haste is the reason you adore each other. Not because Zeke’s trying to get rid of you.

But you know there’s no use in pining for the unattainable. You’ve been dealt your cards; all you can do is play them to the best of your ability.

You hold your head up high as you arrive to your quarters. Inside, Maid Springer has unpacked your luggage and run a bath.

She’s nowhere to be seen, probably retired for the night.

You pause in the middle of the room. The door slams shut after you and Levi, and the sound feels heavier than usual.

You take a deep breath. You know you’ll have to address Levi. Try to soothe his pain even though it’s utterly futile.

“Levi-”

A strong, ruthless arm grabs you. You’re spun around at a dizzying speed and pushed up against your desk.

Levi’s hot, irregular breath hits your face. You only have time to blink before he’s grabbed your waist with both hands, forceful and angry. Hard enough to leave marks. Not because he wants to hurt you, but because his strength makes him shatter everything he touches unless he holds himself back.

Now, he’s finding it hard.

You meet his heartbroken gaze. You see the anger. The jealousy that’s settled in his stomach and started gnawing at his intestines like a parasite.

“L-”

His mouth is on yours. His urgent tongue parts your lips, steals the air right out of your lungs. His hands move from your waist to your thighs, pushing fabric out of the way with growing desperation.

He needs you now. He needs you close. He needs to hold onto the illusion that you’ll be his little miss, just for a precious moment longer.

Yet as his hands slide up your bare legs to grab your hips under the dress, he miraculously finds the willpower to stop.

He opens his eyes, mouth millimetres from yours. Your lips are glistening and your chest is heaving, trying to get back some of the air Levi so skilfully robbed you of.

“I don’t trust myself right now, little miss,” he says. His voice is low and faint, just a touch raspy. “I don’t feel in control and it scares me.”

His hand trembles just a bit.

“Tell me to leave. Order me to go away, and I’ll stand guard outside your door for the night. It’s better-”

You hush him by darting forward to take his lips. Easily, you move to sit on the desk properly.

It’s early evening. Guards are still patrolling in the hallways and in the yard. There are maids still walking around.

You hardly care. Maid Springer has drawn the curtains before leaving, and that’s good enough for you.

“It is alright, Levi,” you whisper as you pull back from the kiss. You place a gentle hand on his chest, eyes lidded and mouth a little ajar.

You reach your other hand and undo the bow at your wrist. The ribbon slithers onto the floor, forgotten for the night as you grab the front of his cape and reel him in again.

Your lips meet. It’s a messy kiss driven by blind lust. His hands grab your hips a bit rougher, he pulls you in against him.

You grind against him, shamelessly wanton. As surprised as you were, it took no time to get you on board.

Your palm slides up to his jaw, into his hair to pull him tighter against you. Your legs lock around his waist, heels pressing the stiffening bulge against you by the small of his back.

He breaks the kiss just to bury his face into your neck. He breathes in and groans at the familiar scent, lips nipping and lapping at your skin. Your scent is always driving him crazy, sweet as honey yet also comforting. Like a piece of home that he never had.

You release a throaty moan and toss your head back, eyes closing on instinct as you voluntarily give him all of you.

This beautiful, haunted man. Anything he wants, it’s his.

His mouth leaves a heated trail as his thin fingers easily hook under your panties and pull them off. You lift your hips to make it easier for him.

You’re still in your travel dress. The filth from the journey back is still unwashed but you’ve ceased to care.

Your hands traverse, clipping the cape open as they go. You slip his jacket off as well, hips rolling against his crotch.

His hand finds your sex under the hems of your skirt. You feel his hand close over it, rubbing just slightly. You’re already wet and ready for him.

You moan as he bites your throat, a couple of demanding fingers thrusting inside your body.

You slide a hand down from his shoulders to his belt. Nimbly, you undo it and move inside to grab his bare length.

It’s already rock hard. You start rubbing it gently, in rhythm with his fingers. You feel heat on your cheeks, it’s still only the second time you’ve touched one.

Levi’s fingers plunge deeper inside you, rubbing against your tender walls while his hand grips your waist hard, keeping you there as if afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go.

Your mouth finds his again, you gently bite his lower lip and moan deeply.

You want him all over you. You can hardly contain yourself. The thought of doing this with anyone else in the world makes you want to vomit.

Levi’s all you need. He’s all you could ever want.

“Levi, do it,” you beg against his lips, voice hoarse and thin. A part of you is afraid he’ll pull away at the last minute but he doesn’t seem to have the coherency for that.

Instead, he pulls his fingers out, undoes your dress and pulls it off, leaving you bare save for the brassiere and shoes.

You tug Levi’s pants down just enough to get his cock out. You shrug your brassiere off and do your best to hide the way your heart is leaping in your chest, so hard and fast you can feel your blood running through your body in pulses.

He’s done waiting. He’s been plagued by the memories of your last time and up until now, he’s battled the urges away.

He can’t do that anymore, not with the knowledge that in a week, you’re to be wed.

He grabs your hips with full authority, yanks you in and buries in to the hilt.

He hisses against your throat, bites another mark there. He’s stopped caring about the consequences. All he wants is you, completely his while he still has the chance.

Before Eren irrefutably claims you in a way he never could.

Your fingers sink into his coarse hair, you cry out and guide him in for another kiss. Your lips cling to his like it’s the air you’ve been depraved of ever since you last had him near.

It hurts, your body still not completely used to being taken, but not enough to deter you. If anything, you welcome the pain.

It makes it feel more real.

Levi starts thrusting into your heat, pressing against you so hard you almost topple back. His hands roam over every inch of your skin that he can find, desperate to feel you.

You hear the way he grunts and puffs against your lips. The tension in his jaws, the way he pulls you to meet his every thrust, desperate to get in harder. Deeper.

He can’t hold himself back anymore. Can’t comprehend the thought that he’ll have to watch you become someone else’s soon. Can’t come to grips with waking up one day to you no longer being his little miss.

He rips you off the desk. On instinct, you lock your legs and arms around him to keep yourself up. He takes course towards your bed.

You move away from the kiss just to bury your face into his neck. His skin is heated, you smell the familiar scent of musk, metal and soap and on cue, you start worshipping it. Your lips kiss and nibble, egging him on.

You don’t make it to the bed. Levi groans and slams you into a wall. You ignore the way your back scratches against the rough stone and instead, clench your muscles around him.

He grabs both of your wrists in one hand and slams them down above to your head. One hand holding you up, he fucks you into the wall, rendering you breathless and hopeless in his hold.

He’s not gentle like last time. He’s fuelled by anger and blinding jealousy. He wants no one else near you. The thought drives him mad.

You let him pin your hands. All you do is wrap your legs tighter around his back as he drives into you, to the hilt, over and over like a man possessed.

“I don’t care what happens, you belong to me,” he grunts, fingertips digging into the flesh on your hips hard enough to leave discoloured marks. There’s authority to his voice, but also sadness. Deep down, he knows it’s not true.

“Yes,” you still whisper with full conviction. “I belong to you.”

No matter what the law says, you’ll always be Levi’s.

You tremble a little. You’re close but it’s not enough. You flex your hands under his hold but he doesn’t let up.

“Levi, please,” you gasp. You’re going crazy, craving release but his prick alone won’t get you there.

He catches onto it. He moves away from the wall, carrying you. He throws you down on the bed.

Ignoring the surprised yelp you let out, he presses between your thighs and slides back in. He stands on his knees, watching the way you moan and arch your back.

You see his black hair, fallen over his eyes. You see his dark eyes underneath, twinkling with lust as he looks at you. You see the way his breathing is just a bit elevated, not from the physical extortion but because of how riled up you’ve managed to make him.

“I love you, Levi. That will never change,” you breathe. His eyes soften, but just a little. Then, he starts jerking his hips again, pushing into you.

He hisses as your tight heat envelopes him. He closes his hand over your clit and starts rubbing it in rhythm with his hard thrusts.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. You gasp his name. You feel his smouldering eyes, trekking all over your body as you roll back into his length.

You’re getting close. Each time he circles his hand, you feel a spark.

“Give me all of you, Cora. Show me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, I’m yours, I-” you cut yourself off with a strangled cry as he rams in at a particular angle, fingertips working relentlessly on your clit.

Your breath get stuck in your throat, you shudder, legs trembling and head thrown back as you reach your climax.

Your mind blanks, you wail just a little as your muscles contract around Levi, your hand reaching for his on your waist. You squeeze his thumb to stabilise yourself.

Levi watches you, intrigued and consumed by hunger. He keeps his hips going, thrusting deep inside you with a steady, albeit now slower pace.

You come down slowly. You fix your lidded eyes on Levi’s face and lazily reach out your arms.

“Come here,” you whisper. He leans down until he’s lying on top of you. You kiss him deeply, body limber and open for him as he starts moving faster again, getting closer to his end.

Lips locked in a sloppy kiss, he pulls out at the last second and comes. He groans, you feel something warm land on your stomach and when you break the kiss and open your eyes, you spend a small moment just panting and staring at each other.

“Stay for tonight,” you breathe.

He looks a bit reluctant. The part of him trained to never lay a hand on anyone above him kicks in and he feels the compulsion to pull away and pretend like this didn’t happen. Like he’s still in control of his pining for you.

Then, he nods slowly. Pulling back, he lovingly gathers you in his arms. He carries you to the bathroom.

The bath is already cooled down to lukewarm but you don’t care. You wash each other clean gently and carefully, lips coming together more than once in a dreamy, feather-light kiss.

By the time you pull on your nightgown and slip under the covers, you’re already nodding off. Levi joins you on the bed. Stroking your hair, he watches you fall asleep.

As always, he guards your dreams.

-

_The first time he sees her, his world stops for a moment. He’s standing in the middle of the yard, hacking away at a straw doll._

_As the prince of this kingdom, he has to be strong. That’s what his father had told him. He would never see the crown but he could find glory in battle, leading troops under Admiral Zackly._

“_Eren.”_

_He pauses his wooden sword mid-air and turns to look at his father. His large, green eyes slide from the Czar to the two people next to him. An uneventful day he thought this would be, it’s now proving to be false._

_One is a man, a bit younger than _ _his_ _ father. Veiled in green and purple, he looks foreign to Eren. On his head is an emerald-covered crown. _

“_Eren, this is King Rod Reiss of Nambala,” Czar Yeager introduces the man. “He is here for negotiations. And this-”_

_Eren’s eyes slide to the girl next to the foreign king. She’s very petite with golden hair and blue eyes. She glances around, looking shy and wary._

“_-is his daughter and the crown princess of Nambala, Historia,” the Czar finishes the introduction._

_The blush that creeps on Eren’s face is instantaneous. He doesn’t see girls his age very often. His eyes widen a little and he hurries to look away._

_Historia gives him a proper curtsey. He bows stiffly, avoiding looking at her. It makes him feel weird._

“_Historia is ten, isn’t she? That means her and Eren are the same age,” the Czar says to King Reiss. He smiles stiffly and nods._

“_Eren, why don’t you show Historia around the castle?” Czar Yeager says. “I’m sure she’d like to get away for a bit. We’re just speaking adult business after all.”_

“_Why should I?” Eren mutters with a sullen expression. He doesn’t know her and every time he looks at her, he feels odd. __His stomach churns._

“_Do forgive him, he’s a very rough young boy,” Czar Yeager says to Historia, leaning down a little to be at her level. “Don’t worry, he’ll warm up to you.”_

_He then turns to Eren and grabs the sword from him._

“_Go on, now. Give Historia a tour.”_

_Eren wrinkles his nose, still avoiding Historia’s eyes, but he knows he can’t decline._

“_Come on, then.” He tuts and grabs Historia’s arm._

“_Be gentle with her, Eren,” the Czar warns. “She’s a lady and a royal at that.”_

_Eren doesn’t reply but her grip gets a little gentler. Historia says nothing as Eren reluctantly drags her away towards the castle._

_There’s a heavy silence as they move along the corridors. Some maids pause to look at them, some whisper a little when they recognise Historia._

“_Where do you want to go?” Eren asks suddenly. He stops in the middle of the hallway, so abruptly Historia bumps against him._

_Instantly, she flinches and hurries to keep some distance._

“_Somewhere quiet, please,” she says after a moment of contemplation. She accompanies the request with a curtsey._

“_Don’t curtsey. It’s embarrassing,” Eren says, only gracing her with a small glance. He then grabs Historia’s arm again and starts leading the way upstairs._

_How bothersome. Why does he have to humour some foreign girl? He’d much prefer to spend the day practising with the sword._

_They arrive at the astronomy tower in the Wing of Science. Unlike Novarynians, Varsikovians are not overtly concerned with the stars and thus, the small room is almost always empty._

_Eren opens the door to the balcony on which stands a telescope. He carelessly moves it away._

“_No one comes here,” he explains. Historia steps to the railing and looks out to the barren yard._

“_It’s rather cold in here,” she remarks and pulls her purple scarf tighter over her shoulders. She’s wearing an emerald green dress and the silk shines ever so slightly in the sunlight._

_Eren clears his throat and leans against the stone wall, merely observing Historia._

“_Well yes. It’s north,” he says simply. Somehow, despite his annoyance, his thoughts seem to slow down and get a little foggy every time he looks at her._

_Girls are weird, he concludes._

_Historia sighs gently, looking a little displeased. She glances over her shoulder at Eren just to see him immediately look away with a faint blush._

“_Why are you so afraid of looking at me?” she asks and turns around. Crossing her arms, she gives him a look. They’re out of the public eye now so she dares to be more direct._

“_I’m not afraid,” Eren denies immediately. “I can look at you. I just don’t want to.”_

_Historia tilts her head._

“_Why?”_

_Eren doesn’t know how to answer that question. Thus, he reluctantly turns his head and looks at her. Immediately, the crimson is back on his cheeks but he stubbornly holds the eye contact._

_He has something to prove, after all._

_Historia watches him. She blinks as she tries to figure him out. Then, she smiles._

“_Your eyes match my dress.”_

_He looks at the dress._

“_I guess.”_

_Historia hums and says nothing more. Eren frowns and as the silence prolongs, he feels more and more self-conscious. _

“_Where were you from again?” Eren asks, mostly to fill the silence._

“_Nambala.”_

_Eren frowns. He remembers hearing the name in passing but he has no idea where it is._

“_Is it nice?” he asks. Slowly, he walks up to Historia and looks over to the yard. He wonders what the scenery is like in a faraway land such as hers._

“_It’s nice. Warm. It looks pretty.”_

“_That sounds… Nice.”_

_She smiles._

“_I saw you practising earlier. With the sword. Do you like fighting?”_

“_I wasn’t giving my all,” Eren can’t help but say immediately. “I’m much better really.”_

_Somehow, he wants to brag. He doesn’t know why but every time he looks at Historia, he feels oddly light. He likes the thought of her thinking he’s strong._

“_Really?” she asks, sounding a little doubtful._

“_Yes. I could take down anyone in this castle.”_

_She looks even more doubtful. She leans in. Immediately, Eren leans back, looking just a little flustered._

“_Really?”_

“_Yes.”_

_She decides not to call his bluff. Instead, she hums._

“_Daddy says it’s important that everyone likes us here. I don’t know why.”_

_Eren glances at her. She looks sad all of a sudden._

_He doesn’t know why she has to please everyone, either. But he nudges her and clears his throat, a little awkward._

“_It’s fine. I’m sure everyone will like you.”_

_As they make their way to the dining hall come evening, they can hear the arguing half a corridor away._

“_She’s still to young. She’s ten, for goodness’ sake! I don’t want to burden her with such matters for at least another-”_

“_This is out of your hands, Reiss. I’ve already made preparations for moving her here.”_

“_You can’t do this! I agreed to this union because I was at the end of my rope but I never agreed to you taking my daughter from me at such a young age!”_

_Eren looks at Historia. She seems worried as they hurry to the door. She reaches for the handle but pauses midway._

_She’s scared to open it._

_Eren does it for her. Overcome with the urge to show his boldness, he marches to the door and yanks it open._

_There are four men inside. Eren quickly identifies them as his father, King Reiss, Admiral Zackly and Zeke. They all turn to look._

“_Eren!” Czar Yeager gasps. “It’s not appropriate to open the door without knocking first.”_

“_What were you talking about? Of her,” he says and gestures to Historia. She follows him in, looking meek._

“_Admiral Zackly, I am begging you,” King Reiss says immediately. He looks desperate. “She’s much too young. I promise you her hand once she’s of age but it’s too early.”_

_Admiral Zackly disregards him._

“_Miss Reiss. I’d like you to meet Zeke Yeager. You two are to be wed.”_

_For some reason, the news irk Eren. He immediately throws Admiral Zackly a defiant glare but no one’s paying him any attention. Everyone’s eyes are on Historia._

_Zeke is in the room, standing a bit further back with his arms crossed. He didn’t participate in the heated debate and when he looks at her, his eyes are filled with cold indifference._

_Historia feels lost. She was not informed of this beforehand and the thought of tying herself to this intimidating adult man makes her shudder a little._

_She keeps it down. Instead, she does as she’s been trained to. She smiles, eyes shining gently, and curtseys._

“_Tsk. Just a kid,” Zeke remarks dryly._

“_Your grace,” King Reiss tries to appeal to Czar Yeager. The Czar winces. He hates having to partake in this conversation._

“_It’s out of my hands. But I promise to treat her well.”_

“_Daddy? What does that mean?” Historia asks. Her eyes are wide, __she can only barely conceal how scared she is__. She glances at Zeke. His cold eyes __frighten her._

“_Historia, go outside. Daddy will talk some more with these men. Don’t worry about it.” King Reiss walks up to her and places both hands on her shoulders. He tries to smile but it’s obviously forced._

_He never had her talent for feigning feelings._

_Eren is suddenly taken over by a strong urge to run away. He glances at Historia but she’s rooted in place._

“_There’s no need for that. I’ll take my leave shortly.”_

_Admiral Zackly walks to Historia and gives her a short look._

“_You’re moving to this castle as of tonight. You’re allowed one Nambalese servant and an annual visit from your family. You and the czarevich are to be wed once you’ve passed puberty and become fertile. That’s all.”_

_With that, Admiral Zackly strides off. Eren always admired him. He had natural authority, he was to the point and Eren has heard rumours that he’s near unbeatable in battle._

_But now, he doesn’t like the way he looked at Historia._

“_Eren. Out.”_

_Eren turns to look at his father. Czar Yeager looks stern. He doesn’t want his son to see the aftermath of this decision._

_Eren does as he’s told, albeit reluctantly so. As he goes back to the yard and picks up his wooden sword, it seems to weigh more than usual._

_-_

_Historia hasn’t left her quarters ever since she was escorted there. She hasn’t come down for meals at all._

_Czar Yeager tells Eren to leave her be. She needs some time to get to grips with this and she “isn’t Eren’s to comfort”._

_Despite that, Eren finds himself sneaking out in the evening of the seventh night since Historia moved here._

_He pauses in front of a mirror just slightly to make sure his hair looks a little tousled. He likes the look, he thinks it makes him look like he’s just returned from battle._

_He makes it to the remote quarters but before he can get to the door, he’s stopped by a woman._

_She looks just a bit older, Eren estimates her to be twelve or thirteen. She’s wearing a foreign-looking uniform and she crosses her arms at the sight of Eren._

“_She’s not expecting anyone. Get out of here, child.”_

_Eren looks at her freckled face, the sword hanging at her hip. She’s tall and lean and there’s a very protective tinge to her eyes_

_She looks cool. Not that Eren would ever confess to it out loud._

“_She didn’t invite me. I just want to talk to her,” Eren says and cocks his chin up._

“_Oh? And who __in the Damnation__ are you?” she asks, unimpressed._

“_A… Friend,” Eren replies, but there’s a little bit of insecurity in his tone. He’s not sure if he’s classified as Historia’s friend._

“_Tough luck. She never mentioned a friend. You should leave and go to bed like a good boy,” she says lazily. Her tone pisses Eren off and as he replies, his voice is elevated._

“_I’m not sleepy!” he argues in annoyance, instantly blushing at how childish he sounds._

“_Ymir? Is something the matter?”_

_The door is suddenly cracked open. Historia’s face appears in view._

_Instantly, Eren can tell she’s been doing nothing but crying the past week. Her eyes are red and swollen, her face is pale and her voice is croaky._

_She looks at Eren and blinks._

“_Oh.”_

“_It’s me, Eren,” Eren says, suddenly scared she’s already forgotten. She blinks again._

“_I remember you. Why are you here?”_

“_Just wanted to talk.”_

_Historia contemplates for a moment._

“_Alright, then. Let him in, Ymir.”_

_The freckled girl reluctantly does as she’s told. Eren walks inside Historia’s quarters._

_They’re large and well furnished. Her bed is _ _wide_ _ and covered in silk linen. The walls are covered with expensive-looking drawings, though Eren can’t tell what they depict. Even the style is foreign to him._

_Unlike Varsikovian paintings that are made with coarse brushes and grey-scaled colours, these look finger painted. The colours are bright and sunny._

_There’s a large bookcase by the wall, a fully stocked desk, a fireplace and large windows to let in lots of sunlight, though now they’re covered by thick ruby-coloured curtains. Her balcony points south._

_Historia’s belongings are still unpacked in the corner. Eren glances at the rucksacks._

_It’s dim inside save for a few candles on her bedside table and desk._

_Eren pauses to look at one of the drawings. It’s a humanoid wolf with rust-coloured fur, howling at a bright yellow moon._

“_Zira. Fairy tales say she’s half-wolf, half-human and traverses swamps and thick forests, eating any children that get lost there,” Historia explains. “The drawings arrived today, Daddy sent them to me.”_

_Eren nods. He feels a little awkward. He came here full of confidence but now that he sees Historia, he’s not sure how to comfort her._

“_So, you’re staying here?”_

“_Yes.”_

_She breaks the eye contact. It’s hard for her, to hold it all together. Eren doesn’t know what to say and the silence lingers._

“_Historia, I-”_

“_I hate that name,” she suddenly mutters. Eyes still cast down, her hands clench into fists. There’s a lot she can hold in, but in this moment, hearing that name is too much for her._

“_You hate your own name?” Eren frowns._

“_That’s not my real name. That’s my Nortish name.”_

“_Nortish name? You have more than one?” he asks, visibly confused. Historia sighs gently and wanders to the large window. Looking out, her eyes turn even sadder._

“_Nortish is the language we’re speaking in right now, the one Varsiko brought to Nambala. At home, when there are no Varsikovians around, we speak Nambalese.”_

“_I see,” Eren says for a lack of anything better. He watches Historia’s back._

“_We have two names. The Nambalese names we use amongst each other and the Nortish names we use with Varsikovians. Historia is my Nortish name.”_

“_Why do you have two names?” Eren asks._

“_I don’t know. Daddy just said that’s the way Varsikovians wanted it.”_

“_Then what’s your other name?” he asks, watching her hunch up._

_She’s quiet for a bit. She’s not sure if she trusts Eren with the information. After all, using your Nambalese name before Varsikovians, let alone Varsikovian royalty, is something she’s been taught not to do her whole life._

_But she’s far from home, and the heaviness in her heart could subside did she share it with someone._

“_Krista.”_

_Eren ponders for a moment. Then, he nods._

“_Fine then. From now on, I’ll call you Krista when we’re alone. How about that?”_

_At that, she smiles just a little bit. It’s such a small relief but with the heaviness in her heart, she still welcomes it._

_-_

_Eren visits Historia in secret. They get acquainted with each other slowly but surely. He learns she loves peaches and desert lilies. He learns she hates pine tar jam and waking up early._

_And most of all, Eren learns that Zeke and Historia are far from fond of each other._

_The years go by rather slowly. Zeke never visits Historia, the two have little to do with each other outside etiquette-mandated outings and dates. In time, Historia starts coming down for meals. She becomes acquainted with the Czar and Czarina and she learns to like the both of them._

_They’re the closest to kind and understanding she’s yet encountered here, aside from Eren._

_Many nights, she cries when no one but Eren or Ymir are there to see it. Eren becomes better at comforting her as time passes._

_It’s a rainy autumn night of the year they both turn fourteen when it finally happens. Eren has sneaked into Historia’s room again as he does most nights. Either his parents haven’t noticed or they don’t care._

_Ymir no longer bothers to hassle him. Instead, she lets him in without a word._

_As he steps inside, he sees her huddled on the windowsill, staring out to the stormy yard._

_Eren can instantly tell something’s not right. She radiates the kind of sadness she did when she was first brought to this room._

_Immediately, Eren’s more alert. He walks up to Historia and places a hand on her shoulder._

“_Krista. What happened?”_

“_Zeke wants Ymir,” Historia murmurs immediately, as if she’s been waiting anxiously for Eren to arrive so she can get it all out. Hugging her legs to her chest, she’s leaning her cheek on her knee, staring sideways out to the rain._

“_Ymir?” Eren frowns. “Why would he want her?”_

“_Said he needs a stealthy soldier who can pass for a Novarynian undetected,” she says. “Apparently, Varsikovian soldiers are easy to tell apart thanks to Alchemy.”_

“_He wants her to go to Novaryn?”_

_Eren looks taken aback. The war is still ongoing, though peace negotiations have been in the rounds for a few years now._

“_Yes. I don’t know why.”_

_Eren sits down next to Historia._

“_You can just decline,” he points out. Historia looks torn and she hugs her knees a bit tighter._

“_It’s up to her, not me. She’s my guard but she has full autonomy to leave my service should she choose to.”_

“_Why would she want to?”_

_Eren doesn’t understand. He’s far too young, immature and removed from politics to see the wide range of things Zeke as the future czar can hold over Historia’s head._

_Historia knows as well. She knows how blessed Eren is. How he’ll never battle with the same demons._

_Yet she also knows Eren’s here because he wants to. Because he cares. Historia smiles a little._

“_She wants what’s best for me. And Zeke can offer things that would make my position easier.”_

_And he can do things that would seriously harm Historia._

_Eren only half gets what she’s saying, but he doesn’t want to appear stupid. Thus, he just nods._

_Together, they look out to the rain. The sound is heavy against the glass, the wind is howling. It’s eerie and dark._

_She stays silent for the longest time. The emotion bubbles up to her throat like bitter bile until she can no longer keep it in._

_Historia sobs, wipes off a stray tear and clutches her arms tighter around herself._

“_I miss home,” __she_ _finally__ sa__ys__, and she sounds so broken Eren hasn’t thought it through before he’s moved in to wrap both arms around her._

_She stiffens for a bit. He doesn’t usually touch her. But then, she relaxes. Aside Ymir, her real name on his lips is one of the only things that set her at ease. That feel safe._

_Eren’s heart feels like it’s about to burst. He’s not a naïve ten-year-old anymore. He knows what this feeling is and that he’s been carrying it with him ever since he first saw her._

_As Eren pulls back, a bit awkward, the same kind of fire is burning in both of their eyes._

_It’s Historia who moves in after Eren stalls for a second too long. Eren’s a little annoyed with himself that he didn’t have the nerve to take the initiative._

_Then their lips meet and it no longer matters._

_-_

“_A fiancée?” Eren frowns. He pauses to look at his father, his fork halfway to his mouth._

“_The peace negotiations with Novaryn are going well. If it all goes according to plan, we can cease the warfare in a couple of weeks. To solidify the peace, the King of Novaryn has offered the hand of one of his daughters.”_

_Eren wrinkles his nose and slams the utensils back down. He tries not to look at Historia._

“_I don’t want a fiancée,” he instantly starts arguing. Czar Yeager sighs and finishes chewing his roast._

“_You are a czarevich of this nation. That means that sooner or later, you need to marry. And what better person to marry than someone who can help us uphold the peace? King Reader has assured me that the daughter he has appointed is attractive-”_

“_I don’t care about that,” Eren snaps. “I don’t want to marry.”_

“_You’re a royal. It’s your responsibility to give birth to the next line of czars-”_

“_That’s Zeke’s job.”_

_Zeke gives Historia a lazy once-over. She gives him an obedient smile, bravely pushing down the heartbreak that comes with the news._

“_It’s both of your job. You’ll marry the princess from Novaryn and that’s that.” Czar Yeager’s tone carries some finality to it, enough to make Eren close his mouth._

_Still, when he sneaks to Historia’s room that evening, he’s fuming._

“_That old fart, who does he think he is,” he mutters as he paces back and forth the room. Historia’s sitting by her desk, quietly watching him._

“_I won’t marry her. Absolutely not. The war can resume for all I care, I’m not marrying some Novarynian girl I’ve never seen.”_

_Historia stays quiet. She looks very thoughtful. It’s been nearly a year since her and Eren became an item in secret. She’s not dumb enough to think Zeke hasn’t caught onto it._

_He most likely just doesn’t care. He takes her out on balls and dinners to keep up appearances but his approach to her is still chilling indifference._

_She doesn’t mind. If he was into her, that would complicate things tremendously._

_Historia had all but concluded Zeke’s simply not interested in women. That is, until she happened to see a glimpse of some lead drawings depicting naked women with leather collars or men’s hands around their throats, left in plain view on his desk while Historia was visiting him for their anniversary._

_To say the sight unsettled her would be an understatement._

“_I think your father has a point,” Historia says. Immediately, Eren turns to her with a glare, ready to lash out._

“_We’re all royals. That’s just how it is. I don’t want to marry Zeke, either, yet here I am.”_

“_So, you want me to marry her?” Eren asks. Historia sighs and gets on her feet. She teeters to Eren and wraps her patient arms around him._

_She knows he’s emotional and rash. He feels his feelings intensely. He hates just as he loves, with his full, burning heart._

_She’s long since accepted that._

“_If we lived in a perfect world, I wouldn’t marry anyone but you. If I had only concern for myself, I’d oppose my union with Zeke with all I have. But I don’t have such liberty, Eren. My people are dying. By the thousands, every single day.”_

_It’s a grim weight, always on her chest. Pressing her down and making it hard to breathe. She’s been raised her whole life to shoulder it all. Even then, she sometimes feels like crumbling._

_She can’t deny herself Eren, her small place of home after Ymir was taken from her. But never once has she forgotten what’s truly important._

“_So, you’re calling me spoiled? Is that it?” Eren asks with a deep frown._

“_Yes,” Historia replies. She dares to be blunt with him. It’s her Eren, she loves him from the depths of her heart, but she also knows he needs to hear the truth._

“_If this war reignites, Nambala won’t survive. No marriage can salvage my lands and people if they keep taking our resources.”_

_Eren looks sullen. He grumbles something under his breath and rips himself out of Historia’s eyes. Wandering to the window, he looks out._

“_So, you’re saying that it would help your country if I married this Novarynian?”_

“_Yes.”_

“_You don’t beat around the bush do you,” Eren mutters._

“_I’m not at the liberty to. I need every bit of aid I can get. And keeping the peace is important.”_

_Eren stays silent for a long time. He glares out to the yard. He hates this. He hates all of it with passion. He wants things to be clear and straightforward._

_He wants to marry the person he loves. He wants no part in politics. Yet his affections for Historia override that._

“_Fine,” he finally breathes through his teeth. “I’ll marry her.”_

_Historia wraps her arms around his waist and kisses the back of his neck. _

_-_

“_First you wanted me to marry her, now you want me to help you get rid of her?!__“ __Eren’s be__side__ himself. He crosses his arms and looks at Historia. __The nightly castle is quiet around them, only Mikasa and Thomas Wagner guarding their privacy._

“_What on Earth, Krista?”_

“_Zeke came to me. He offered me a deal. If I help him, he’ll-”_

“_No, I’m done with these games. I agreed to go forward with the engagement because you asked me to, now that she’s already roped into this mess you suddenly change your mind and want to get rid of her?! What about the war?”_

“_He promised me that if I help him sabotage the peace, he’ll make sure Nambala won’t be exploited past its limit. He promised they’ll move on to getting resources from the captured Novarynian areas instead. He promised me more power once he becomes the Czar.”_

_Eren looks at Historia in slight disbelief. To think this was the same girl who was basically abducted five years ago, who cried herself to sleep for months afterwards._

_Now, she was growing up to be very different from the shy, meek girl he got to know. The girl who got hurt by words, who was always honest where she could help it and who not only loved her country but also herself._

“_So now what? You want to smoke her out of the castle? How?”_

“_I’ll send her letters to threaten her. She doesn’t seem very hardy. I’m sure I can drive her off.”_

“_I don’t like this, Krista. It’s unlike you. I never thought you’d stoop this low.”_

_At that, Historia’s eyes flare up._

“_I don’t know what else to do, Eren! Tell me, then. What should I do to save Nambala? If he wants war, he can push for it the second he gets the crown and if I’m not on his good side then, what will become of my people?”_

_Eren purses his lips. He doesn’t know how to reply to that. All he knows is that he doesn’t like it._

“_This is not what a good person would do,” he says._

“_I can’t afford to be a good person, Eren. If you’re not going to help me, then stay out of my way. I’ll do it alone if I have to.”_

“_Krista,” Eren sighs and steps forward. He grasps her shoulder gently. “Are you sure this is what you want? You seem to get along with her just fine. She could be your friend. You’re from similar backgrounds.”_

“_I feel for her. Of course I do, poor girl has no idea what she’s in for.” Historia looks regretful, then. She doesn’t want to do this._

“_The price of going against your brother is too great. The lives of my people, they…”_

_Historia closes her eyes to calm her nerves. When she opens then, Eren can see them glistening with silent tears. She’s cornered. Like a noose, her situation has slowly tightened around her throat, taking a choke-hold until she can no longer breathe._

“_They haunt me,” she whispers. Eren’s eyes turn tender and he pulls her in. She slumps against him tiredly._

“_I just want this nightmare to end,” she confesses with a tight voice. “Father sends me an update every month. Keeps talking about how I need to do better, negotiate better, please the czarevich more to get more leeway. I can’t blame him. The famine is spreading, even without the war.”_

_Eren listens without a word, _ _shouldering_ _ some of her pain._

“_Alright,” he sighs. “If you’re sure this is what you want, I’ll help you with that.”_

_She sniffles and nods. She hates herself, she hates what she’s become and she hates how she knows there’s nothing she can do about it._

_Like the weight of her people, loaded on her back ever since she first opened her eyes, she shoulders the self-loathing._

_When Eren gives Mikasa the first letter the following morning, she _ _seems_ _ taken aback. She looks at Eren’_ _s grim face_ _._

“_What is this?”_

“_Take it to my fiancée’s room. Undetected.”_

“_You’re really going through with this? Smoking her out?” she asks, voice openly doubtful. She’s known him for ages. Her, Eren and Armin all grew up together. She doesn’t need to be courteous._

“_You eavesdropped us last night?”_

“_I didn’t have to. I heard it naturally.”_

_Eren clicks his tongue. To Damnation with her augmentations._

“_Yes. We’re smoking her out.”_

_Mikasa bites her lip, looking a tad hurt._

“_And after the war resumes? They’ll go after Novaryn for resources?”_

_Eren gives her a small glance._

“_Better them than us. They started this war.”_

_Mikasa’s eyes flicker down. She doesn’t agree with this at all. Nonetheless, she clutches the letter in her hand._

“_Alright, then.”_

_Eren watches her leave, silencing the doubt in his mind. The part telling him he’s making a mistake. _

_A part he later realises he should’ve listened to as you push through and rise up to his brother._

_With time, he comes to trust your strength. He comes to understand that whether he likes it or not, you will shape the fate of himself and those he loves._

_Hopefully, it’ll be enough._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> First of all, this fic has hit 1,000 kudos, becoming my third work to do so. I'm so humbled so many of you have found this work and liked it. Thank you for all the support and love!
> 
> This chapter ended up way too long considering it's just a smut scene and some flashbacks lol. I wasn't at all sure people would be interested in knowing how Eren and Historia met each other but I figured that if I want to write it out, now's the best chance. We'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming next chapter. We're also slowly approaching the end of Arc II and I'm excited for all that I have in store for the climax of this part ^^
> 
> As always, comments keep me going. Are you team "feeling for Historia and Eren", team "fuck those two" or team "I understand why you did this but I'm keeping a good eye on you and I see one toe out of line your head goes rolling bitch"?
> 
> Also I swear to god these Yeager brothers lol, they both be like


	22. An Awkward Spectacle

The morning you’re bound to go out with Eren, you wake up early and allow Maid Springer to make you presentable. You have some errands to take care of before the date.

The morning after your heated night with Levi, you woke up to him gently shifting through your hair. Surprised, you kissed him good morning. You fully expected him to have retreated back to the door and insisted you pretend none of it happened.

It seems like Levi has given in, at least for now.

The last couple of days, he’s been more affectionate. You haven’t had sex again, but you still fully enjoy the way he way he touches you.

He walks up to you when you’re alone and wraps his arms around your waist from behind.

He kisses your forehead good morning.

He kisses you goodnight.

There’s an unmistakable air of wanting to make the most of things while you still can. While you won’t be staying with Eren, cohabitation is not a staple in either Novarynian or Varsikovian royal customs, you’ll still be a married woman come next week.

Maid Springer has noticed it too. She says nothing as she applies makeup on the faint mark on your neck, concealing it.

You’re grateful for her loyalty.

Just as you’re about to step out and leave Maid Springer to do some cleaning, the door is slammed open.

You raise an eyebrow at Sasha. She still hasn’t learnt her lesson, it seems. She gives you a wince, gently trying dodge her head out of the way of Levi’s now pointed rifle.

Connie follows her in with a long-suffering sigh. You can’t help but notice he’s tucked his shirt in his pants.

You glance at Maid Springer.

Well, at least one of them is learning.

“Letter to you, your grace,” Connie announces. They still keep up the habit of coming directly to your room, both of them, whenever they have mail for you.

You can only guess why.

Taking the letter, you give both of them a short smile and wave for Levi to stop pointing his rifle at Sasha.

You grab the tightly weaved basket from your dresser. It’s filled with some peaches and plums as well as a couple of wild apples. You offer it to Sasha and Connie.

On cue, they start battling for the fruit. Using both hands, they shovel them into their bags.

You watch, thoroughly amused, and ignore the disapproving looks both Levi and Maid Springer shoot you.

When they’ve emptied the basket, you casually place it back down and open the letter. You can tell from the handwriting that it’s from your mother.

“Oh, and here.”

You look up from the letter just to see Connie handing you something. You take it with a frown.

It’s a leather bracelet. The surface is uneven and a little rough, obviously not polished. It immediately gives away that it’s not made by a professional.

You look at the thin strips of coarse leather, entwined together. At the top sits a fang.

You’ve never seen anything like it before. It’s the first time you’ve seen a peasant’s trinket up close like this.

You’re quiet for just a tad too long.

“See, I told you. Of course she wouldn’t want such an ill-made, worthless piece of-”

“I love it,” you interrupt Sasha. “Did you make this?”

“Ah, yeah. Sasha and I did. We fell an ice wolf on the way back from Novaryn, it’s made of its leather and that’s its fang. We did wash everything, there’s no disease in that, I promise!”

You chuckle and shake your head. You hand the bracelet to Maid Springer and hold out your left hand. She gives you a short look but ties it there nonetheless.

Connie and Sasha exchange a few hushed words and then hurry to stand side by side.

On cue, they both bow down.

“Congratulations on your marriage,” they say in unison.

You can immediately tell they rehearsed this. It warms you they went through the trouble. You look at your wrists. On your left is the bracelet. On the right is the ribbon, reminding you of the fast approaching wedding day.

“Thank you.”

You give them a temperate smile. They must have heard the rumours as well, of you and Eren being increasingly fond of each other.

You’re not about to fix their impression.

As Sasha and Connie hurry off, without a doubt to lounge somewhere and feast on the bagfuls of fruit, you turn your attention back to the letter.

“It is Mother,” you tell Levi. “Sirius is still at the Sacred Tree and cannot be reached. He will not be attending the wedding. Mother is not allowed to travel on her own, so she will not be here either.”

You’re not surprised. You surmised something like this would happen.

“And your sisters?” Levi asks as Maid Springer finishes making you presentable. You give him an unimpressed look.

“Thoroughly funny, Levi,” you snort. Maid Springer steps back to get an overall look. Her eyes linger on the bracelet.

It’s very out of place.

“Thank you for accepting his gift, your grace. That boy always had a way with knifes, I’m glad to see he’s still utilising it.” She smiles a little.

“It is a pretty bracelet,” you tell her. You’re not lying there. It’s unlike anything you’ve seen before but you like it.

You walk to your dresser and take the small pouch. Inside, you have the cinder rose seeds. Next to it you have the remains of the mixture Hange gave you. You bottled the little left over in Novaryn and brought it back.

You take both of the items and shove them inside the folds of your dress. Then, you turn to Levi and take a deep breath.

“Alright. Let us get this underway.”

He nods. Armed and ready as always, he follows you out to the hallway.

Wing of Science always carries a smell of pungent metal. The same kind of smell you can detect on Levi if you smell his bare skin very closely.

But whereas on him, it’s comforting, here, it’s oppressive and uncomfortable. A reminder of the clinical nature of Levi’s origins.

You walk to the heavy wooden door you know to belong to Hange’s office. You knock, to a scatterbrained, jumbled response you assume to be a permission to enter.

The alchemy lab you first met her in is much different from her office. Whereas the lab was dim, with crowded shelves filled with ingots, scraps of metal, bottles and chemicals, her office is a bit lighter and less cluttered.

Instead of metals and chemicals, her walls are stuffed with books, parchments and scrolls. She’s sitting at her desk, a steaming cup of tea next to her. You glance at the stovetop in the corner. She must spend most of her time here.

She’s engrossed in reading through some kind of stack of papers. Next to her on the desk is a pile of something pink and wrinkly. It looks like freshly cut, oiled pig skin.

She looks up and when she sees you, she’s clearly taken aback.

“Oh. Your grace.”

You glance at the suspicious-looking pile on her desk.

“I’m not even going to ask,” you decide.

“Probably for the best if you don’t,” she chirps and grabs the pile just to chuck it in one of her drawers. “Government secrets. Might have to kill you.”

You can’t tell if she’s serious but quickly decide to move on.

“Thank you for the present. It saved my hide.”

“Present? Oh, you mean the scrap dust?”

“Scrap dust?”

“It’s just ground up leftovers from experiments that get bottled up and used for decorative purposes. Mostly pretty worthless junk. Did you manage to entertain with it?”

“I managed to pass myself off as a chosen one and send our priests and monks into a state of chaos which eventually convinced my brother to halt the warfare as he came to think it was the will of the Creator,” you tell her.

She pauses and blinks. Then, she swings herself back on her chair and bursts out in laughter.

“Perfect! Just impeccable!” she laughs. You take out the small bottle where you put the remainder of the water you used. It’s no longer shining but you were still curious enough to bring it back.

“So why does it only last 20 hours?”

“That’s how long the chemical reaction with water lasts,” Hange explains with a carefree shrug. She gives the bottle a wary glance.

“That one is far expired though. I suspect you don’t open that lid, the stench could be pretty intense.”

“The stench?”

On cue, you roll the cap open and take a whiff, just to immediately gag. It smells like rusty metal, mixed with a bit of rotten garbage.

A lot of things happen at once, then. The door opens swiftly. Moblit walks in with a huge pile of books, unaware of your presence.

“Miss Hange, I found the-”

He collides with you. Your arm is jerked forward and some of the contents of the bottle fly out just to land all over Hange’s desk and her arms.

Immediately, her eyes widen and she shoots to her feet. The liquid makes a hissing noise and immediately burns her arms to blisters.

She screeches in pain, loud enough for Moblit to get startled and drop the books. He looks at Hange and when he realises what’s happened, he hurries back to the door.

“Armin! Bring water, rags and ointment for burns, now!” he yells and then takes out a napkin.

You watch dumbly, mouth gaping and the opened bottle still in your hands as Moblit tries to scrape as much of the mixture off Hange’s arms as possible.

“What… What happened?” you ask. Hange’s calmed down a little by now, she’s wincing in pain but she manages to give you a small smile.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m severely allergic to the compounds in that. I’ll be fine. Just very tender for a little bit.”

“Allergic?” you ask, thoroughly confused. You’ve seen her sink her hands straight into bowls of way harsher chemicals after all.

“It’s not a common allergy,” Armin explains as he zooms in with water and rags. He submerges the rags in the cool water and wraps them around Hange’s arms. “She needs to wear protective gear while she handles anything containing lead in particular.”

“Could you close that? We don’t want any further damage,” Moblit says and gestures to the still open bottle. Sheepishly, you do as he says and glance at Levi.

He looks just as confused.

“I never knew you were allergic,” he points out. Hange rolls her eyes.

“Up until two weeks ago, you didn’t even know my birthday,” she counters. “It’s kind of embarrassing. The head of Wing of Science can’t handle a little bit of metal dust.”

“I’m sorry.” You grimace.

“It’s okay. Just don’t go around throwing that stuff on me in the future,” she disregards. “It’s not the first time this has happened.”

“I’ll walk you back. Mr Moblit needs to tend to her a little longer,” Armin says. He offers his hand.

“I can dispose of the scrap dust. I doubt you want it anyway since it’s already used up.”

You give him the bottle. Offering Hange one more apologetic smile, you and Levi follow Armin out of Hange’s office.

“Congratulations on your marriage,” Armin starts after a bit of silence. You walk down the corridor, only the sound of metallic clangs and the occasional sizzling noises coming from the behind the sealed laboratory doors filling the space.

“Thank you.”

You wonder how much Armin knows. You’re aware he, Eren and Mikasa are all childhood friends. It’s not at all impossible Armin knows everything that’s going on.

Armin stops abruptly. He turns to you, looking kind of worried.

“I hope you can forgive them,” he says. “I know they might not deserve it and that what they did was wrong, but things will be much easier if you can put it behind you.”

You know better than saying names out loud, even when in an empty hallway like this, but you know what he’s talking about.

How could you not?

“I doubt I will ever become warmly acquainted with either, but I have put it past me. As of now, I need both of them and they need me. I can work with them.”

Armin nods.

“That’s better than nothing.”

He sighs and looks out of the window.

“We opposed the plan from the beginning. Mikasa and I both. I never had any ill will towards you, even if I didn’t have it in me to sell out my friend.”

“Do you detest her for roping him into it?”

Armin stays quiet for a while.

“I think,” he starts, clearly weighing his words carefully, “that people make decisions using the tools they have. Sometimes, those decisions are misinformed and made with faulty reasoning. I think her plan with you was one of those things. However, I don’t think it was a decision made out of malice but rather, a poor decision made by a person with few choices who was driven into a corner.”

You think back to yourself and the deal you cut with Admiral Zackly. A deal you miraculously managed to wriggle out of.

You’ve been in that corner and you know how it simultaneously makes one feel debilitated, slowed down, but also jumpy and eager to pull a trigger, however prematurely.

Anyway out, at any cost.

“She made a deal with the wrong person. There is nothing to say the other person would have kept his end of the bargain.”

If there’s one thing you’ve learnt it’s that Zeke can’t be trusted.

“Who knows? It’s well within his interest to keep her happy, re-igniting the civil war in Nambala by undermining their crown princess would be unnecessarily costly and he didn’t promise her much, just enough to keep Nambala’s head above water for now.”

You sigh.

“I suppose. I understand why she did it but that does not mean I can ever forget it.”

“That’s understandable.”

Her life is a tragedy, but you’ve got your own. And you’re determined to handle it better than she did hers.

As you exit the Wing of Science, you give Armin one more smile. You have no animosity towards him.

“Tell Hange I hope she gets well soon. And that I’m sorry,” you say.

“Will do. Good luck with your date.”

Armin walks back inside, leaving you alone with Levi. You give him a slow look.

“I did not know alchemists could be allergic.”

He shrugs, having lost interest in the incident. You hum, still feeling a little bad about accidentally injuring Hange, but ultimately let it go.

Next, you start making your way to the Czarina’s quarters. Your mother acquired the cinder rose seeds for you while you were bed-bound. You’re oddly happy about the thought of bringing your mother-in-law a souvenir.

You’re about to become relatives by law, you might as well get along.

As is customary of married Varsikovian royals, the Czar and Czarina sleep in separate rooms. The Czar’s quarters are close to his office whereas the Czarina lives in one of the towers.

While not as high and aesthetically pleasing as the towers in Genesia Castle, the altitude must still be a small luxury.

You climb the stairs up to the North-east Tower.

The doors are manned. You suspect it’s so with the Czar’s bedroom as well.

You’ve noticed the Czar and Czarina rarely walk around with designated guards. Then again, they mostly wander patrolled areas and their bedrooms and offices are always manned.

You suspect they have guards to mind them should they wander outside. Historia’s guard, Thomas Wagner, is around at most times, though you have seen her wander around without him as well. As for yourself, Eren and Zeke, it seems like you have more of a personal attachment to your guards. They double as friends which is why they’re around more often.

Or in your case…

You shrug the thought and politely request to be admitted in the Czarina’s quarters.

One of the gruff-looking guards knocks on the door in your stead.

“Come in.”

You’re admitted inside, albeit Levi’s held back. Immediately upon entering, you pause to watch in awe.

The walls are covered with water coloured paintings of flowers. Delicately traced with a fine brush and meticulously shaded, they look almost real. Most of the paintings are of flowers you’ve seen yourself in Varsiko, mostly out in the meadow Historia told you of, but many look foreign.

On her desk is a collection of papers, a couple of unfinished paintings as well as a tray filled with brushes of different sizes and collections of water colours.

Her bed is neatly made and has the same kind of red silk linen most royals do. Her bookshelf is mostly empty save for a few heavy books, laid horizontally over pieces of paper. You frown and step closer to inspect them.

“Flower pressing,” you hear from behind you. You turn, just to see the Czarina. She’s wearing a casual green dress, with a jug in one hand filled with water.

You glance behind her to the open balcony door. Out there, you see it’s crammed full of pots, large flowers and leafy plants soaking in the sun.

Knowing it was the Czarina who insisted on sparing some land for a meadow of flowers within walking distance, you’re not surprised she’s interested in gardening. What you didn’t expect was this level of enthusiasm.

“A flower person?” you ask. She laughs a little.

“How did you know?”

She walks back out with the jug just to finish watering the plants there.

“Ljudel has a large and vast catalogue of flora. I always liked flowers ever since I was a child. Varsiko’s lack of naturally occurring plants and the unforgiving climate that makes outdoor planting challenging definitely bummed me out once I was brought here,” she muses. She sounds nostalgic.

You wait for her to be finished before taking out the pouch and handing it to her.

“Here are the seeds you asked for.”

Her eyes light up. She takes the pouch and peeks inside.

“They’re smaller than I anticipated. I must clear out a pot for them immediately, I need to figure out the exact temperature they can survive in…”

She looks remarkably much like Hange then, the way she walks to her desk and clears out her incomplete paintings just to take out a small pot and get ready for planting some of the seeds.

She plants one seed, waters it and places it in the back of her desk, clearly determined to keep a close eye on it.

She then turns to you.

“I’m glad you and Eren are getting along,” she says, though she looks a little confused.

“Thank you, your grace,” you reply. She looks hesitant. Slowly, she speaks up.

“If I may ask, what about Eren and… her?”

You’re not surprised, you surmised it might come up.

“It is vital we get married soon,” you say, opting for honesty. At least a little of it. “Our reasons are our own, but I can deal with his affections lying elsewhere. But for my own safety, as this peace is on a rather rickety foundation, getting married soon is a good idea.”

She nods, contemplating for a bit longer.

“Do you… Know who was behind Eren’s injury?”

At that, you pause.

“What makes you think it was purposeful?”

“He’s an excellent rider and his horse is very steady. Nothing short of being shot at would spook it.”

You stay quiet. It’s not that she seems suspicious but that you have to treat all the information you have as a privilege.

“Your grace, you know who he was with when it happened. They were deep in the woods. Your culprit lies within those people. As for whom… I have my hunches, but I’m not foolish enough to voice them out loud.”

“I can’t blame you. Nonetheless, I hope you can get along. Good luck on your date.”

She gives you a conservative smile. You reciprocate it.

-

As you step out of the carriage, the town is rather busy around you. The marketplace is filled with people. Bargaining with merchants, looking around for interesting imports from Nambala or Ljudel, killing time by leisurely sitting at the few inns Rekanon has, it’s a bustling day.

It’s been a while since you last visited the city for purposes other than travel. By now, most people recognise you, at least from rumours, and many pause where they are to look at you as you climb out to the street.

Eren offers you his arm the moment you get out. His face is stony and his body language stiff.

Still not the best actor in the world, but you can work with it. You take his arm and give him a rather smitten smile.

“Always so nervous in public,” you tease, trying to paint Eren’s obvious awkwardness to be due to the audience you have rather than his unfamiliarity with you.

You can feel Levi’s eyes on your back but you ignore it. You offered for him to stay in the castle and allow another guard to accompany you but he vehemently declined.

He doesn’t trust other guards. The only times he leaves your side is to bathe, and even then he usually leaves only when you’re with another guard and Maid Springer is in the room with you.

Letting you come out here without him must be out of the question.

Eren’s eyes flicker to the side, clearly embarrassed, as you lean in and giggle a little, body pressing against his arm.

This could work to your benefit. Eren can play the role of an embarrassed yet captivated teen boy whereas you can play the sunny, excitable bride.

You’ve read your fair share of romance novels. You know what appeals to most people.

“Where are you planning on taking me, Eren?” you chirp, latched against him. Levi and Mikasa walk behind you, keeping a respectable distance.

“Shopping and then eating,” he grunts back. The people around you are pausing to look, some chuckling, some lowering their voices to a whisper as they start gossiping.

You make your way to the city square where the statues of Nimbus Zackly and Ymir are. You look at them. Still just as large and intimidating.

“Is there anything you want to buy?” Eren asks. You think it over. What would make for a good scene?

“I would like a new hair ornament and some books,” you finally decide. Steering Eren by his arm, you move towards one of the more luxurious attire shops situated by the square.

Stepping inside, you take in the rows and stacks of dresses and jewellery, hanging from wooden poles. The silks and rhinestones glisten a little in the warm light of the sun and the lanterns hoisted up to the ceiling.

The lean woman minding the sturdy mahogany counter perks up as you step in. She looks to be in her late fifties, with a heavy layer of make-up on her face. You can see the wrinkles underneath the chalky powder and stiff lipstick.

“Oh dear, didn’t expect royals to my shop today,” she purrs with a low, intimate voice. She’s obviously ecstatic about the opportunity of selling something for royal usage.

Levi and Mikasa man the door as you walk up to the counter.

“I’m looking for a hair ornament.”

“Certainly,” the woman says with an unctuous smile. “We have a wide assortment just over here. We have all the latest styles. Traditional Varsikovian, Ljudelian, Nambalese, even more exotic imports from Son Orle,” she chatters as she guides you further in, among the maze-like rows of hefty dresses and ironed suits.

You arrive at a large rack, filled to brim with different kinds of tiaras, clips and hair ties. Some simple, some ridiculously lavish, there’s no shortage of selection.

“I would like something to go with black,” you tell the clerk. Immediately, her eyes light up.

“You mean for the wedding?” she asks. You nod. She smells the opportunity for good business and thus, puts her all to selling something to you.

What then ensues is a rather tedious session of trying on different ornaments. While Levi and Mikasa stand by the door, quiet and stoic, Eren soon grows bored and starts rolling his eyes at every ornament the clerk brings your way.

The store is otherwise empty, so you can give him the leeway to do that. Outside, some people have gathered to look through the window as you go through the ornaments.

Eventually, you pick a beautiful bronze tiara with an embedded rhodolite as the centrepiece. It will look quite nice with your black wedding dress.

You’re glad you don’t have to awkwardly try to gesture for Eren to pay for the ornament. Not that you can’t afford it but it seems more romantic if he does it.

You have a small audience as you step out. Some townsfolk have stopped their daily errands to observe you.

It’s not every day they see royals.

You smile brightly at Eren and hand him the ornament. He doesn’t understand your intentions right away. He gives you a confused, wary look and fiddles nervously with the tiara.

“Would you put it on me?”

He looks a bit taken aback. You can hear some spectators chuckle at Eren’s naïvety. Luckily, it makes sense. He’s fifteen so it’s quite natural for him to be out of his element even if he has feelings for you.

He obliges and places the tiara on your hair. His touch is light and nervous. You notice it lingers, just a little, and he then gently brushes a lock of your hair behind your ear.

So, he’s learning.

“Thank you.” You smile and straighten your back. Like a scorching hot iron, you can feel Levi’s eyes on your back.

You spend another two rounds at the book store and when you get out, you’re carrying a tall stack of novels. Mostly romance stories along with a few war novels Eren recommended.

Your hands are very full as you step back to the street.

Levi walks up to you and extends both arms. You give him a small smile and hand him the books. He easily carries them in one hand.

Your eyes meet for just a second. Yours soften a little. You’re sorry he has to see this.

Levi breaks the eye contact quickly, afraid someone will catch onto it. His gaze flickers to Eren, showing just the tiniest bit of irritation and even childish competitiveness. Then, he walks back to Mikasa with the books.

At that point, you have a small, dedicated crowd following you. They don’t seem malicious, just curious. Every time your hand brushes against Eren’s as you walk, you hear a few people gasp.

Even though this will work in your favour in the long run, it’s still very awkward. You never got used to being on public display, you were always raised with the thought of living your life stowed away from the public eye.

You stop at a small inn Eren picked out for you. Inside, you’re escorted to a corner table and a plump, friendly-looking woman brings you some wine.

Levi and Mikasa stand guard by your table, keeping curious voyeurs at bay. The word of your little date has without a doubt spread, evident in the way people come inside, many even going as far as buying a drink so they can sit and gawk in peace.

The innkeeper doesn’t seem to mind. She welcomes the business.

“This is a nice place,” you say as you’re brought a meal of fried fish and steamed carrots with a side of potato soup.

He grunts in response. He’s acutely aware of the audience and he’s obviously very uncomfortable. You lean in and grin playfully.

“Relax. They are just excited about the wedding,” you say and reach a hand to grasp his. It’s time to up the ante. You want these spectators to have something to gossip about.

You want a rumour mill of you and Eren being hopelessly in love.

“Y-yes,” Eren stammers just a little. He glances at the hand but to his credit, he hides the hue of discontent and instead squeezes his hand around yours.

“Just a week, huh,” you sigh dreamily and start eating, hand still languidly in Eren’s. “We got the dress made in a hurry, I just hope it fits me alright. Oh, and the guest list is still not finished…”

You babble about mundane wedding business, pretending to be very much anticipating the event. Your joint hands are decorated with the bows, further hammering home the message.

It’s a scene almost too sappy to feel authentic, yet Eren’s bashfully grumpy demeanour really sells it.

He blushes every time you give him a coy look or playful smile. He flinches and clears his throat as you let your fingertips linger over the back of his hand as you finally pull your hand away.

You hear some of the spectators chuckle and giggle, some whispering to each other about how adorable it was seeing a scene like this.

A few times, Levi perks up and gives a hard glare at some of the people whispering. You can’t make out the majority of the words said, but you assume these ones were indecent towards you.

It’s hard not to let your eyes mellow with affection every time he does that.

As you finish the meal and get ready to go, Eren seems to have risen to the occasion. He places a gentle hand on the small of your back and escorts you out.

The crowd scrambles to follow you.

“It suits you,” he says after a little while of walking. You’re trekking back to the carriage. “The tiara.”

“You think?” you chirp with expertly feigned enthusiasm. He nods.

The crowd is getting so big some soldiers have come out of the base to manage it. You never anticipated your date to be this popular of a spectacle.

“Wait,” you hear one of the women following you gasp. “Do you think they’ll-”

“In public? That would be most daring,” another cuts in, sounding sceptical. “I doubt the czarevich has the nerve.”

That visibly annoys Eren even though he knows better than stopping to look back. He doesn’t like being underestimated.

You can see the seed being planted in his mind. He’s getting ideas.

You grow a bit worried as you near the carriage. You can see it on Eren’s face, he’s getting more and more determined as you walk.

As you arrive at the carriage, he takes a deep breath and turns to you.

“Thank you for today. It was nice getting out before the wedding,” he says. He looks a little sullen still, but to outsiders he probably just seems nervous.

Despite your growing suspicion, you give him a sunny grin.

“How silly you are to thank me, I always enjoy being with you, Eren.”

He hesitates for just a moment but eventually, he takes the bait those two women unbeknownst laid before him. He moves in, a hand grabbing your waist. A little clumsy and unfamiliar, but he’s got the spirit.

You let out a surprised squeak but keep your composure. You allow your hands to gently rest on his chest as you meet his eyes. You look taken aback but not unwilling.

Unlike Levi’s stormy grey, Eren’s eyes are emerald green. Absorbing the sunlight, they sparkle in the early evening sun.

He has nice eyes. You can give him that much.

He falters for a split second before moving in to kiss you.

It’s a stroke of tragic luck that thanks to both yours and Eren’s infidelity, neither of you are lost on how to kiss properly.

Your eyes flutter shut and you cup his jaw. You tilt your head and moan in feigned delight. You saw this coming but that doesn’t mean you’re any more comfortable with this.

You can hear a gasp go through the crowd. Some of the women squeal. You hear whispers, some excited, some scandalised.

But above all, you can feel a pair of murderous eyes, bouncing between you and Eren. You can sense the amount of restraint it takes Levi not to rush in, tear you apart and kill Eren for touching what’s his.

You try to ignore it and focus on the kiss.

You notice Eren’s lips are rougher than Levi’s. His way of kissing is slower and more restrained.

He pulls back and to your surprise, kisses your forehead before opening the carriage doors for you. You give the spectators a bashful yet obviously giddy smile and climb in.

The journey back is spent in awkward silence. Eren glances at you a few times, as if preparing himself to say something, but eventually he lets it go.

At the castle, you thank him for the day again but keep it brief. You’re worried someone will catch onto how obviously enraged Levi is.

As you step back inside your quarters, you’re not the least bit surprised when you feel a possessive arm, yanking you in as Levi practically drags you to the bed.

He throws you on the soft cushions and mounts you. His feverish hands tremble the slightest bit as he treks over your skin, desperate to overwrite Eren’s foreign scent.

If he looked tortured the last time you did it, it’s now tenfold. Seeing you kiss Eren was a slap in the face. A reminder that he can’t take.

He darts in, kissing you with blind desperation.

Underneath him, you allow him his brief solace.

Taking shelter in your vanishing haven, you let him forget for yet another night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloo!
> 
> Can you hear the wedding bells? The date is nearing and it seems like Eren's determined to keep his end of the bargain. Poor Levi has to witness it all. Bless the man, he's trying his best to deal with it but it's hard.
> 
> We are only seven chapters away from the end of Arc II and trust me when I say this is the calm before the storm. The clues have been laid out, now I'll just wait and see if any of you followed the breadcrumbs ^^
> 
> Comments are always wonderful and appreciated. How are you feeling about the juicy love triangle (square? fucking pentagon if you count Zeke and Historia as well lol) that's emerged with the marriage? I've been teasing the big twist on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SquibblesMcGoo) for quite some time, feel free to come say hi there as well :)
> 
> Signed by your loving author,  
Rika


	23. Day Of

The last time you were in the ceremony hall, you were filled with quiet amazement. You were impressed by the fact that Varsiko was capable of such rich ornaments. Up until then, Varsiko had seemed like the kind of culture that actively rejects things such as beauty and design.

The hall was the first time you called that into question. Whereas they might still see efficiency as a higher priority, you must confess you think the large venue in the military base is rather pretty.

You walk through the hall. It’s glistening, almost completely red as the sunlight shines through the rubies on the chandeliers. The maids are busy at work, covering the long rows of wooden benches with red cloths.

As much as you enjoy the brief moment of resting your eyes on the hall, maybe the most Novarynian thing you’ve seen in all of Varsiko, you have no time to linger.

You gather the hems of your dress and move towards the small stage, behind which is the curtain-covered doorway you saw Historia step through on her wedding.

This time, it’s your turn.

“I do not understand how anyone moves in this thing,” you mutter as you drag yourself and your heavy dress across the hall. The thought of spending the night dancing in this thing is not alluring in the least. You woke up early this morning to Maid Springer stealing your covers.

She ushered you to the bathroom in the crack of dawn, washed you thoroughly, pulled this dress on you and fixed your hair. She covered your eyelids with soot-coloured chalk and slathered a layer of black lipstick on your mouth.

You wonder why the bride must dress in all black of all things as you step on the stage and through the curtains.

It’s the first time you see the back of the ceremony hall. It’s merely a tiny room with a small bench in the middle. It doesn’t have any windows, the only way out is through the doorway.

“The ceremony will start in two rounds’ time. Just wait here.”

You look at the soldier who escorted you here.

“Is my guard allowed in?”

“If you wish.”

“Let him in, please. I would be terribly bored just sitting here alone.”

The soldier nods.

“Very well.”

He leaves and hardly a dozen seconds later, Levi slips inside. The curtains fall back in place after him, leaving you in relative darkness. The small oil lamp gives off a little light, though the grey curtains absorb most of it.

It illuminates perfectly how you feel. The small rays of lights you try to cling so dearly to are muffled and stifled by the bigger picture.

On the days leading up to your wedding, Levi’s been desperate. He’s been ravenous and most nights, you’ve ended up naked and sweaty in his arms. During those nights, you could close your eyes and forget.

Now, time is up.

You smile sadly up at Levi.

“Oh, what I would give to feel happy on my wedding day,” you confess. He looks tortured still, his eyes linger painfully on your attire and make-up. As he meets your eyes, the look says it all.

What he’d give to marry you in Eren’s stead.

You place your ribboned hand on his gently. You know. But that was never on the table. You were never going to have that freedom.

“You look beautiful,” he finally says, and his voice cracks just the tiniest bit. He’s holding it together, but just barely.

“I meant what I said, Levi. I will not consummate the marriage with him.”

Levi looks sceptical. He shakes his head. You’ve had this discussion more than once during the last week.

“You will have to eventually. The czarevich needs an heir.”

“He does not, he is not the crown prince,” you stubbornly say again. In actuality, you don’t know if Eren wants to have a child. You haven’t talked in ages and as uneasy you are about leaving such discussions until after you’re married, you recognise doing so makes no difference; you will marry in either case.

You sigh and sit down. You cross your legs under the large hems of the dress and stare up at the non-assuming stone ceiling.

“I feel lost,” you confess.

“That’s understandable.“

“Is it, now?” You sigh.

“Yes. Don’t start second guessing yourself now, little miss. This is a good thing,” Levi says, pushing on despite the obvious pain in his voice. “This gives you more protection and influence. But it doesn’t mean it’s not hard. It’s okay to feel lost.”

“I feel lost all the time,” you chuckle and tilt your head down to look at him. “Most of the time I feel like I’m just stumbling in the dark, frantically feeling around to catch my bearings and somehow, miraculously, managing to bumble my way through this mess in the process. I feel like I’m just holding up a stone mask, dreading the day someone comes close enough to see that it is full of cracks and already crumbling. I’m a fraud.”

Levi shakes his head firmly.

“You’re not a fraud. You’re a young monarch who’s learnt her way to be a diplomat. Your inexperience does not make you an impostor.”

“Then why do I always feel like I’m one misstep away from collapsing this house of cards?” you mutter. He cups your face in his hands, gently yet firmly.

“Because you are,” he says, feeling no need to mince his words. “But that doesn’t mean you’re a fraud for having built that house of cards. Trying with whatever tools you have doesn’t make you a fraud.”

You want to nuzzle your face into his cool hand but know it would merely mess up your make-up. You cup his face in your hands instead, mirroring his movement.

“Stay by my side,” you order. “No matter what, always stay by my side.”

“That’s an easy promise to make, little miss,” he says and presses a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

“Where will you be during the ceremony?”

“I’ll stay back here, out of sight but close in case something goes wrong.”

“Are you expecting something to go wrong?”

“Not necessarily, though if the czarevich wishes to pull something as a last ditch effort to keep you from the marriage, this would be his chance.”

“I will just have to trust the security measures. Czar Yeager did promise to appoint more soldiers to man the ceremony and after-party due to what happened to my father.”

Obviously, all it would take is one spy to slip through the cracks, but it’s a gamble you’ve had to take your entire stay in Varsiko.

When has your life not hung by a thread?

“Don’t worry, little miss. I’ll keep a keen eye on everything,” Levi promises. “I pulled a favour from Erwin Smith as well. He will join the party and lift some soldiers from the Wing of Offence to join him.”

You blink.

“Why Wing of Offence?”

“Should the czarevich try anything, the Wing of Royal Affairs is easier to get under his thumb. Wing of Offence is a whole another beast. We’re fiercely loyal to Erwin Smith, even over Admiral Zackly.”

You hum, storing the piece of information somewhere to the back of your mind.

“He seems like an alright commander. If I may say so as the representative of the country he’s been rallying against his whole career.”

“He does what needs to be done but he uses his head. I respect him and so does everyone else in the forces. Since Admiral Zackly has not succeeded in conceiving a child, most think Erwin will be the next admiral.”

“Interesting.”

Honestly, you never realised Admiral Zackly has no children. The Zackly line has controlled the military for three generations now, so you just assumed it would continue that way.

“I wonder if it was a conscious decision,” you muse.

“It probably wasn’t. He has a wife. She’s been pregnant but miscarried. Now they’re both getting too old to have children.”

You’re curious to see what the military will look like under Erwin Smith’s rule. Though, by the looks of things, Admiral Zackly is healthy and going to rule for the foreseeable future despite his piling age.

Outside, you can hear people slowly pouring into the ceremony hall. Eren’s still not here.

Not that you’re complaining, it gives you a moment longer alone with Levi. You look into his burdened eyes. You want to remind him that you’re his, that you’ll always be his, but you know those words won’t soothe him.

A large part of you wants to run. Yet leaving everything behind means not only leaving this miserable marriage and the political games, it also means leaving every person whose life rides on this peace.

Oh, the curse of empathy. Of caring.

Still, you steel your heart and when Eren finally slips in, wearing the same kind of formal grey uniform Zeke was for his wedding, you stand up and take a deep breath.

It’s almost time.

Eren looks nervous. His eyes keep flickering around the room, to anything besides you. Mikasa hasn’t entered the room with him, you surmise she must be keeping watch by the stage.

You can’t help but notice his suit is a little wrinkly and his red scarf is just a little misaligned.

He must have rejected the notion of having his maids dress him.

You don’t bother fixing things for him; if anything, you welcome a little edge and personality to this otherwise so stiff event.

As time ticks away and the beginning of the ceremony nears, he grows increasingly fidgety. You feel your heart beat faster as well, and it takes all of your restraint to keep your pining eyes from Levi.

“It is almost time,” you point out as you hear the last of the guests sit down outside. Eren nods and offers you his arm.

“Are you ready?” you ask as you gently latch yourself onto his side.

“No,” he confesses. “But I suppose there’s no choice but to get this over with.”

He glances at you.

“You’re calm as always.”

You blink.

“No, I’m not calm. In fact, I’m afraid my heart will leap right out of my chest.”

“You don’t look it.”

You don’t have time to answer before the curtains are yanked open. The hall falls silent as Eren carefully escorts you out.

Czar Yeager is in the first row, along with the Czarina. Zeke and Historia are next to them. You don’t have time to stare, but you can imagine exactly how they look. Zeke’s aloof amusement and Historia’s well-concealed discomfort.

Admiral Zackly is standing on the stage, just like he was during Zeke and Historia’s wedding. He waits until you’ve settled in front of him.

“Ribbons.”

You reach a hand to undo the ribbon around Eren’s wrist. He does the same to yours. Tying them together using one hand each is just as tedious and hard as it looked last time, and it takes you significantly longer than Zeke and Historia. Mostly due to Eren’s impatient way of hurrying his movements.

As you finally manage to tie the ribbons together, you turn to Admiral Zackly.

“Under the Sovereign rule, we have gathered to set these two people together. May their lives and union be long and fruitful.”

Admiral Zackly turns to Eren.

“Eren Yeager, the Second Czarevich of the Czardom of Varsiko. Do you hereby take Cora Reader as your lawful spouse and agree to treat her with dignity and according to her value, as your wife and Czarevna?”

“Yes.”

Eren doesn’t sound as firm as Zeke did, but he doesn’t falter either.

“Cora Reader, the 13th Princess of the Kingdom of Novaryn. Do you hereby take Eren Yeager as your lawful spouse and agree to treat him with respect and devotion according to his value, as your husband and Czarevich?”

“Yes.”

“You may claim her.”

You hate the way Varsikovian wedding customs put the last part. Eren steps closer. He lacks the assertiveness Zeke had but he gets the job done as he kisses you.

You lean in and even dare to giggle a little. You have an image to uphold after all and the nobles present can make or break a rumour.

You rest your hands on his shoulders and keep the kiss going for just a touch longer than appropriate, eager to create an illusion that you’re excited about this.

As you pull back, you smile at him sheepishly, a faint blush on your cheeks. It’s only the second time you’ve kissed Eren, but luckily both of you have experience elsewhere.

“From this moment on, I declare you legally wed.”

A part of you declines to believe it’s actually done. That you’ve tied the knot and from now on, you are legally and irrefutably bound to Eren.

You smile at the crowd as Eren undoes the bow and leads you down from the stage. You give Czar Yeager a small, giddy wave as you walk out. He’s beaming.

As you step inside the carriage that’s waiting outside, you can’t help but look back to the doors, hoping to see even a glimpse of Levi. You don’t.

You start rolling towards the castle, through streets filled with peasants waiting to see you pass, though not nearly as many as there were during Zeke’s wedding.

A heavy silence lingers. It’s as if neither of you wants to voice their thoughts.

Eventually, Eren takes the bait.

“I think I want to have a child.”

The spluttering sound you gurgle out in response is easily the most unrefined thing you’ve ever let out of your mouth, but you can’t help it. You stare at him.

Trust Eren to not beat around the bush and pick the worst possible moment to talk about this.

“A child? With Historia?”

“Are you crazy? I know better than putting a child in her. I meant you.”

You give him an incredulous stare.

“Please do not fall in love with me,” you finally sigh. At that, he immediately scowls.

“I’m not in love with you,” he snorts with so much enthusiasm you’re inclined to believe him. “I just think it would be smart to have a child.”

“Why?”

“In case Kri- Historia and Zeke never get one.”

“Dreaming about having your child on that throne?”

“Not really. But it’s customary.”

You frown.

“Since when have you cared about what is customary?”

“I sat down and thought about it. I realised I’ll never have a child with Historia so I had to decide whether I want one with you since that’s my only option.”

“You are fifteen, why is this even relevant right now?”

“We don’t know how long we have until things crumble.”

You give him a long look. Then, you finally sigh and soften the tone of your voice. A teenager, you remind yourself. You’re dealing with a teenager years younger than you.

“First things first, things will not inevitably crumble. I’m working to maintain the peace-”

“I want to trust in that, but you’re just one person.”

“I’m just one person but I’m not alone.” Despite that, his words ring true. They appeal to the part of you that thinks you’re just a liar waiting to be revealed. You straighten your back, terrified Eren will see how lost you feel and stop betting on you.

Always carry yourself with dignity. You remind yourself of your mother’s mantra and meet Eren’s gaze calmly.

“And secondly, if things do crumble, do you really want a child in the mix of all that? Can you imagine the mess? And thirdly, I cannot be out of commission due to pregnancy for the foreseeable future.”

That, and you don’t want a child with Eren. You want it with Levi yet that’s never been an option.

Ultimately, you know it’s Eren’s choice. As vile as it sounds, you’re legally now considered his property. If he wants to put a child in you, he can do so without legal repercussions.

You turn to stare out of the window, biting the inside of your cheek as you muse. A child would complicate things too much.

Not to mention the thought of sleeping with Eren is rather creepy.

You look at the people outside, waving and staring at you as you pass. Some obviously just happened to be there, stopping their errands to look, but some have come here just to see the spectacle of the royal parade.

You see some young girls sitting on the side of the street, staring with wide eyes as the horses and carriages pass by, manned by soldiers and nobles.

Being a royal has always been a double-edged sword. On the one hand, you have luxuries, you have the opulence, but in other ways your life is much more restricted than that of a peasant.

You briefly indulge yourself in a fantasy. Of being a simple peasant girl and meeting Levi so you could wed and have a family with a quiet life.

A nice little dream, though you realise your fantasy is not only naïve, it’s insulting to the hardships of peasants.

“What do you want me to do about Historia?”

Your idle thoughts are interrupted by Eren. You turn to give him a raised eyebrow.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Do you want me to stop seeing her?”

“I genuinely do not care what you do with Historia.”

It’s the truth. You have no feelings for Eren and thus, you don’t really pay mind to his affairs. So long as he’s smart enough about it to keep it a secret. Judging from the way it seems to have been years and there’s still no scandal, they appear to be cautious.

He doesn’t reply as you arrive at the castle.

The party is of smaller scale this time around, most likely because Eren’s not the heir apparent. Ye that doesn’t mean it’s not extravagant. Packed with food and drinks, the hall is full of people not important enough to attend the ceremony but important enough to attend the after-party. Mostly Varsikovian nobles and soldiers, but you spot a few people from Ljudel as well.

The dress is heavy and restricting on you as you navigate the large space, decorated with red silk. You smile and mingle with some nobles, clutching your wine glass with the clear intent of using alcohol to keep your mind at ease.

Every now and then, you glance at the door, only relaxing your shoulders when you finally see Levi walk in with Erwin Smith. He browses the crowd and when he spots you, he keeps his eyes fixed.

You wander around, shaking endless hands, smiling and futilely trying to memorise names and faces.

When Czar Yeager finds you, he pulls you into a warm hug.

“Welcome into the family,” he says with a heartfelt smile, a proud twinkle to his eyes. “I’m sorry your brother and mother couldn’t be here.”

“It is rather alright,” you smile back. By now, you’re well accustomed to being without your family. Plus, now you don’t need to worry about Zeke trying to keep up the tradition of murdering your relatives during weddings.

“So, what’s the first thing you’ll do as a Yeager?” the Czarina asks with a pleasant smile. You shrug and smile sheepishly.

“Honestly? Probably burrow myself in the library and start going through alchemy books.”

At that, both of their eyes widen. They pale instantly and you know you’ve struck a nerve.

“Are- are you quite sure you want to spend your honeymoon phase doing that?” Czar Yeager finally laughs, being the first one to regain his composure.

“Yes. There is a reason why it is all sealed away. My curiosity is piqued,” you counter calmly. The Czarina bites her lip. Czar Yeager sighs.

“I suppose we can’t keep you from the library forever. Whatever you find, please remember that- That we’ve done whatever we must to survive.”

He looks uncertain and haunted, as if whatever they have hidden plagues his mind routinely.

“I will keep that in mind,” you promise. The Czar smiles awkwardly, clearly not comfortable with the topic.

Whatever there is stored away from your eyes, it must be huge. Their reaction says it all.

“E-either way, tonight we should drop all that and celebrate,” Czar Yeager says and claps a friendly hand on your shoulder. Next to you, Eren has been quiet throughout the whole exchange but when the music finally starts, he’s happy to steer you clear of his father.

You walk to the dance floor and as the slow, sombre waltz starts playing, he guides you into a dance. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you, especially Levi’s. You swallow and release a long breath.

You stare into Eren’s eyes and smile. He looks nervous and a little awkward, but it suits his persona as an inexperienced yet enamoured groom.

It’s time to start the main portion of the show.

You press your head against Eren’s chest and close your eyes, leaning into him with a smile. Around you, you can hear people start murmuring amongst themselves. Such intimacy is unforeseen, but you can get away with it as a foreigner.

You feel Eren hesitate. Then, he decides to step up his game and pull you closer, his cheek resting on your head as you sway gently to the rhythm of the music.

“Look at those lovebirds,” you hear someone say. You smile to yourself. It seems to be working, you’re doing a good job sabotaging the leverage Zeke has over Eren and by extension, you.

Even if Zeke releases the rumours about Eren and Historia, not many are bound to believe him.

As the song comes to a close, you’re not surprised when Czar Yeager asks to dance next. He did the same with Historia.

An awkward dance later, he walks you back, right into Zeke’s waiting arms.

“I suppose I should be up next,” Zeke says as he steps up to you, smiling the kind of smile that promises nothing good. You give him a brief glare. He knows you can’t turn him down with the Czar watching.

Czar Yeager has no qualms handing you over. You want to grumble under your breath but keep it at bay. Instead, you give Zeke a polite smile and let him start leading you to the dance floor.

The dress is still heavy and you find yourself tiring much sooner than usual. Zeke’s beaming at you as he places a hand on your waist and reels you in.

“Congratulations on your marriage, your grace,” he starts, a lazy drawl to his voice. You groan.

“What do you want? Are you planning to walk me through another diabolical plan of yours and end it by assassinating someone close to me?” you ask. He chuckles fondly.

“No. This time, I’m just going to congratulate you for a match well played. Seems like you’ve won my little brother over.”

“Is this where you start boasting about how I’m bound to lose eventually? I must say, it is becoming quite passé.”

At that, Zeke laughs, surprisingly authentically at that.

“Now, now, pet. No need to get testy. That is not on my agenda.”

You don’t trust what he’s saying, but you’re not in the mood to humour him. You wonder how much of his cockiness is just a bluff. You briefly entertain the theory that he’s secretly just as lost as you, but quickly dismiss it.

This is Zeke Yeager you’re talking of.

“Are you sure your hound dog can take this much longer?” he asks innocently. You ignore him.

“Must be quite the slap in the face. Poor fellow.”

You roll your eyes to yourself and stay quiet. The best way to deal with him is just to let him say whatever he wants. He likes the sound of his own voice above all else after all, it seems.

“You’re a good actor. Latching onto Eren like that and batting your eyelashes at him. I’m a little jealous. But I guess a healthy dose of sibling rivalry is welcome.”

You want to put him back in his place. Remind him that you’re not a piece of meat to be battled over and that in fact, you belong to neither Zeke nor Eren. But you know it’s just a waste of your energy.

“Looking forward to digging out our dirty little secret?” he asks, and that, more than anything, gets your attention.

“What secret?” you’ve asked before you can hold your tongue.

“I wouldn’t want to ruin it for you. Just know that I will relish in seeing you discover what my father has tried so hard to keep from you, seeing you fill with anger and finally, seeing you fill with frustration and despair as you realise there isn’t a thing in Damnation you can do about it.”

He gives you an uncanny smile. You say nothing and as the song ends, you pull yourself out of his grip and curtsey shortly.

“Pleasure as always, your grace,” you say and head out. You’ve had enough of him for an evening.

You ought to find Eren but before you do, you decide to go talk to Levi. Just to check on him.

You find him standing in the sidelines with Erwin Smith. He knows better than showing his disdain of your dance with Zeke openly. Instead, he crosses his arms and gives you a thorough once-over.

“Everything alright?”

“For now, at least,“ you respond. You give Commander Smith a small curtsey.

“Congratulations on your marriage,” Commander Smith says. “I was just talking with Levi here about the outstanding effort you’ve put into the peace negotiations. As the head of Wing of Offence, I thank you.”

You blink, a little taken aback.

“Oh,” you manage. You don’t know why, but you never thought he’d appreciate your agenda.

“I know what you’re thinking. As the head of Wing of Offence, I must enjoy the part were we go on offensive, right?” he reads your expression, seemingly taking no offence to it. ”I’ll have you know, the more of my men I can keep out of harm’s way, the better. For what it’s worth, you have my support in maintaining the peace.”

You nod slowly, glancing at Levi. From his expression, you can decipher you can trust Commander Smith to be truthful.

“Everything seems to be normal here. We haven’t detected anything out of the ordinary,” Levi says. Erwin nods in agreement and turns his eyes back to the crowd.

You manage a nod. Eren comes to you, looking exhausted and normal amounts of sullen.

“We should get going. Father wants to give us our wedding gift now.”

You give Levi a soft look and then follow Eren back. In your mind, you’re willing for the party to be over already.

It’s several rounds later, after countless of dances, conversations, smiles and curtseys, that you’re finally allowed to retire for the night.

You’re to live apart in your own quarters, but for the night, you’re given a large, joint bedroom as per tradition. You’re sent off with knowing smirks and nudges of elbows. Czar Yeager leans in to whisper that he wouldn’t mind if you beat Historia to giving him grandchildren.

It’s all terribly uncomfortable.

The room has obviously been decorated and prepared just for the occasion. You look at the painted silver murals on the walls, the rose petals scattered around the bed, the large bottle of wine and two glasses set on the dresser. The windows point East.

It’s secluded enough that no one can hear you even if you’re loud.

You can at least be grateful for the privacy.

Eren closes the door after you. Mikasa and Levi are standing at the end of the long, empty hallway leading to this door.

You take a deep breath. It’s been a long day. Only, you know it’s not over yet.

Eren steps closer. He looks uncomfortable.

“So… What now?” he asks. You want to laugh at the question but don’t. Behind you, the night settles. You can see lights from the city. The room is only illuminated by a couple of oil lamps.

You drop your gaze. You suppose this is where you should be honest with him.

“Eren,” you start. “I stepped into this marriage with the idea of not consummating it. I know you said you want to have a child, but I kindly ask you to put that idea on hold, for now. I know that legally, you may do as you wish with me, but I beg you to not do that.”

He looks unhappy. He walks closer to you and gently plucks the tiara, the very one he bought you back then, from your hair.

For a moment, you’re afraid he’s going to kiss you and topple you onto the bed. Then, he sighs and puts the tiara down on the dresser.

“I’m not going to do it by force. I’m not my brother,” he says. He sits down on the buoyant bed and starts undoing his elaborate uniform.

You watch quietly as he wiggles his way out of the grey jacket and boots, looking every bit like the disgruntled youth he is. He keeps going until he’s naked save for his undergarment. You note he’s fitter than you expected.

He pauses.

“You can take the dress off. It looks uncomfortable.”

You pause for just a tad too long. He frowns.

“I just said I’m not going to do anything by force.”

You observe him. Then, you finally turn your back and pull your hair out of the way, revealing the small clasps keeping the heavy dress on you.

“I will need help,” you say. Eren gets up from the bed. You feel his clumsy hands start unhooking the clasps, slowly revealing your shoulders and back.

You’re wearing an undershirt and underwear but you still feel oddly self-conscious. It’s the first time Eren’s seen this much of you.

As the dress finally falls to the floor, he stops for a moment. Then, slowly, he tests the waters. He presses a small kiss on your shoulder, you feel one of his arms snugly wrap around your waist.

You sigh gently.

“Eren, I know this feels just as wrong to you as it does to me. You are fifteen, you have plenty of time to become a father later.”

Eren takes a shaky breath. Then, he presses his forehead against your shoulder.

“Zeke’s trying his hardest to get Historia pregnant.”

You glance at Eren over your shoulder. You can see how it’s taking a toll on him. You doubt Historia resists Zeke, but you can’t imagine her being happy about it. Much less Eren.

“Putting a child inside me will not change that, Eren. The deed is done, whatever way Zeke lashes out is out of our control now.”

“I know, I just want to…” He trails off. He doesn’t know what he wants to. He has all these intense, negative feelings, bubbling inside him, and he doesn’t know where to put them. A part of him wants to hurt you, just to make you suffer as much as he and Historia have yet he recognises that you have paid a hefty price for every inch of progress you’ve battled your way through.

Much like Levi, Eren’s consumed by his possessiveness. And unlike Levi, Eren lacks the maturity to hold himself together.

You turn around and meet his eyes. You look compassionate, Eren decided to do this for your sake after all. And despite the unresolved bitterness you feel towards Historia, you wouldn’t wish for her to suffer in the hands of Zeke like that.

“Thank you,” you finally say. “For agreeing to marry me. You have my gratitude.”

For a moment, he looks lost. Then, he finally pulls away and walks to the bed. Burying himself under the blankets, he curls up and turns his back.

A long, drawn out silence falls between you, yet you don’t move or speak up. You sense he has something he wants to say.

“I know you’ve slept with Levi Ackerman,” he finally mutters without turning.

“You do?” you ask, hardly surprised. It wouldn’t be hard for him to catch onto it, considering he’s having an affair himself and knows the signs to look for.

“Yes.”

“And? What will you do with that information?”

Eren stays quiet for a moment.

“Nothing,” he finally admits. “Just, be careful.”

“I know.” You know better than becoming pregnant with his child. “I will not do anything to tarnish your name. In exchange for me turning a blind eye to you and Historia, I ask that you in turn do the same for me and whoever my affections lie with.”

“...Alright.”

You turn off the oil lamps and circle over to the other side of the bed. You slip under the covers, relieved the bed is so large you don’t have to touch Eren. You turn your back to him and take a deep breath.

Restless by your husband, you long for the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it has come to this. Our Reader is a married woman. Eren has way different aspirations for their union than her. Now they'll just have to deal with the reality of it.
> 
> I'm happy to get this chapter done so I can move on to the meatier stuff haha. The nuclear fallout that is Levi post-wedding, the thing Czar Yeager has been trying to keep from Reader, the end of Arc II that's drawing ever so closer. I'm exicted!
> 
> Also seems like our girl has learned the best defence against Zeke's signature attack of talking mad shit. Just ignore him dear.
> 
> I always love hearing from you guys, so if you're still on board this fic as we pass the midway point, please consider leaving a comment ^^ 
> 
> I also keep my followers updated on what fic-related stuff I'm working on currently and when to expect updates on my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SquibblesMcGoo). I also post fic-related polls, occasionally name characters after followers and other stuff, so if you're interested, feel free to follow!
> 
> Until next time!


	24. The Ackermans

As you wake up, the sun is only halfway over the horizon. Your body feels weighty and hardly rested as you blink slowly. You’re facing the balcony, away from Eren.

It takes you a moment to notice the warmth against your back. As you try to pull away from it, you realise someone’s arm is tightly locked around your waist. You frown and shift, just to see Eren behind you, fast asleep.

Carefully, you manoeuvre out of his grip and turn around to look at him. It’s odd seeing him without his signature frown. His face is calm and child-like in the glowing morning sun, and you’re once again reminded of his young age.

You recall back to last night, the awkward encounter you had. You fell asleep backs turned to one another but he must have sought you in his sleep somewhere through the night. Most likely by instinct, looking for Historia.

You sigh gently and get on your feet. You want to get out of here.

You wander to the window and look out. It’s still very early morning.

You glance at the dress on the floor. Putting it on by yourself would be a challenge. Plus, you really don’t want to make your way back in the heavy thing.

Thus, you tiptoe to the door in your underclothes and open it. The corridor is long and unmanned, without a single door before it intersects the other corridor where Levi and Mikasa are guarding.

Calculating that soldiers are unlikely walk by and see you indecent like this, you walk down the empty corridor to Levi and Mikasa, hoping to send one of them to fetch Maid Springer.

As you reach the end of the corridor, you peek around the corner just to see Mikasa and Levi, guarding each side.

You almost expected to see Historia or even Zeke, but no one’s there. Mikasa and Levi are both awake and they turn when they see you.

You hug your arms to your chest, suddenly hyper aware of how little you’re wearing. You move to Levi.

Circles around his eyes, it’s obvious he hasn’t slept all night. Well, he hasn’t slept in a few nights. His eyes move over you wordlessly.

“I would like to request Maid Springer to bring me a new dress.”

“What happened to the old one?”

“It is too heavy. I crave for casual wear.”

Mikasa watches quietly and perhaps Levi has come to trust her, or perhaps he just can’t muster the ability to care, but Levi grabs your waist and yanks you in. Quickly and purposefully.

He smells your neck. He smells your hair. Both he and Mikasa possess superhuman senses. They must smell Eren on you.

Levi’s face twists with pain. Then, without a word, he strides off.

Your eyes widen and sudden panic takes over you. Levi has never walked away from you like this and you find yourself following him without fully thinking it through.

“Levi, wait.”

“Go back. I’ll send someone to guard you,” he grunts. You cling to his arm and dig your heels into the floor in an effort to stop him.

“Wait,” you plead. He stops and shrugs you off like you weigh nothing. Then, he keeps walking. You follow him stubbornly even though he’s not going to your quarters.

“Levi. Wait. It is an order,” you say. Luckily there are very few soldiers around and Levi seems to consciously be taking a lesser known route to wherever he’s going. Having someone see you like this would complicate things.

“Go back, Cora. Leave me be for now.”

“No.”

Levi grits his teeth and turns with every intention of making you stay. You cross your arms and meet his eyes fearlessly. You’ve been in this situation before.

“You cannot hurt me, Levi. So many times you have planned to but you have never been able to bring yourself to do it. Where you go, I go.”

He narrows his eyes and finally turns again, adamant to get away from you yet he doesn’t break into full run or even jog. You follow him quietly, eager to get out of the public eye.

You’re not surprised when he walks to the Wing of Royal Affairs. You’ve never been here, but the endless rows of similar-looking doors tell you that it’s most likely a barrack.

Levi unlocks one of the furthest doors and strides in. The corridor is mostly empty but the barracks are quite lively around you as soldiers get ready for their day. Though, the walls seem to be thick enough to drown out most noises.

You let yourself in after him and close the door. You look around. His room is not impressive despite his captain status. His bed is narrow and made with cheap-looking sheets. The room is rectangular in shape and very tiny. The desk is situated on the opposite wall, though the room is so small you could easily reach it from the bed.

On his bedside table is a notebook of sorts. You surmise it’s a log or a diary. There’s only one, half-sized window that oversees the front yard.

He doesn’t have his private toilet or bath, you assume soldiers share a single pump in a common bathroom.

Levi promptly shuts the curtains before he addresses you.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“You allowed me in here.”

You’re very aware of how little you’re wearing. Your hair hangs over your shoulders and back, messy and undone. Your legs are bare and you don’t even have any shoes on.

It’s completely and utterly indecent, yet when you saw Levi walk away, you couldn’t keep yourself from following him.

Levi takes a deep breath and lets out a pained grunt.

“You smell like him.”

You shake your head and step closer, until you’re in front of him and can gently grasp his shoulders in your hands.

“Nothing happened.”

He circles around you and grasps your throat. Your back presses to his chest as he presses his nose into the nape of your neck.

“Liar,” he growls. “I smell it. Right here.”

“We slept in the same bed. He moved in his sleep so that he pressed against my back. That is the extent of it,” you reply, voice firm and sincere despite the way your eyes flutter at the feeling of his breath.

Levi knows that legally, he has no standing. You’re now Eren’s property and if he wanted to sleep with you, there’s nothing Levi or even you could do about it.

Yet still, he can’t pull away and shake the thought. The thought that Eren has no right to lay a hand on you. The thought that you’re Levi’s, that he’s already claimed you, that there’s something in the heavens and earths themselves pulling you to each other, a magnetism he’s been unable to break away from since day one.

It’s you who grabs his arm on your waist and turns around. You kiss him.

“I loathed every moment I had to spend away from you,” you tell him as you open your eyes and press your forehead against Levi’s.

He’s hanging by a thread. He’s so close to snapping yet he holds onto you dearly, arms locking around your waist to keep you right there where you belong.

He opens his eyes, painstakingly so. He looks broken and tired, just like he has during the days leading up to the wedding. Only now, it’s all said and done.

He looks like he wants to cry.

You’ve broken him.

“Why can’t I do it?” he whispers. He shakes you in his hold once, but it’s a lifeless, defeated motion. “So many times, I have planned to go to the Czar and ask him, beg him to order me to stop loving you. Then all this would go back to normal, like it never happened.”

You feel cold at the thought and on instinct, you clutch his shoulders a bit tighter. Yet you know, he’s at full liberty to do so if he wants to.

“I do not know,” you whisper. “Why can you not do it?”

You nuzzle your nose along his cheek to his ear, down his jaw until you can bury your face in his neck.

He stays quiet for a long while, gathering his thoughts.

“My purpose has never been my own,” he finally says. “Somehow, I feel… Me. Like I’m in control of something, even a tiny aspect of my life if I guard you, not because I was told to but because I love you.”

You hug him tighter.

“But why did it have to be you?” he asks and his voice breaks just a little. “Of all people, why did it have to be the one thing that will never truly be mine?”

“I’m yours, Levi,“ you interrupt with a small sniffle.

The thought of causing him so much pain, forcing him to confront the ugliest parts of himself, the possessiveness, the loss of control and direction. The thought that you’re adding your burden, on top of all the damage he’s suffered since birth in the hands of his upbringing. It makes your eyes well with tears.

It drives you mad.

“I will always be yours, Levi. No matter what. There is nothing I would not give you to ease your pain.” Yet the thing that could soothe it is not yours to give.

You take his hand and gently guide him to his bed. You push him down and mount him. You kiss him gently, hands lovingly shifting through his hair.

“I love you, Levi. I always will. There is nothing that can change that,” you whisper. He looks at you, eyes lidded and surrendered yet sad and hopelessly tortured.

You kiss down his neck, hands nimbly undoing his uniform. You push the garment out of the way, determined to feel his bare skin. You feel his hand roam up your thigh, but he stays otherwise still.

When his chest is revealed to your eyes, you take your time kissing around it. Worshipping his cool skin. You gently press down on it, only to find the tissue underneath unyielding. You wonder if it’s his muscles or the metal that’s lining all of his innards.

More of a machine than a man, yet his heart beats with such purpose and passion. It fills you with awe, how someone with such a cold, inhumanely strong body is capable of holding you without harming a hair on your head.

You take your time. Your lips move over his chest, his abdomen down the patch of hair from his navel. As you undo his trousers, he makes a sudden movement, as if to stop you. Only, he changes his mind midway and decides to just submit to it.

He’s too exhausted to bother with what’s right, what’s legal and least of all, what’s honourable. You pull his pants and boots off him, leaving him bare.

He’s already hard from the sight of you and as you grasp his cock in your hands, he takes in a sharp breath. You look up at him, eyes wide and batting playfully.

He stares at you, mouth ajar, hopelessly turned on and when you wrap your mouth around the head of his prick, he groans.

“Little miss-”

You’re not one to listen to idle protests. About how it’s unbecoming of you, about how you’re too much above him. Instead, you work his cock into your mouth, little by little, until he reaches the back of your throat.

You cough a little, foreign to this, but determined all the same. You move your tongue along his length, relying on his voice to figure out when you’re doing something right.

Every time you touch the spot just under the tip, his breath hitches. His hand dives into your messy locks and he holds the back of your head, clearly fighting the urge to push you down to get your mouth on every inch of his cock.

You push yourself down until he blocks your airways. Your eyes well with tears and as you pull back, you lick your lips and smile sheepishly at him.

The sight makes him groan. His eyes roam your body, visibly unhappy about your clothed state.

Easily, you toss your undershirt and pants off, leaving you bare. He moves his hand, cupping one breast, then the other, before allowing you to get back to work.

You take him in your mouth vigorously, eager to draw more of those sounds out of him. You want him to lose his cool, to moan and groan like a mortal man made out of flesh and skin.

You feel Levi’s hand press your head down, lightly at first, but with increasing demand as he gets swept away by the feeling. You glance up to see his head thrown back, moans tearing from his throat and they’re like music to your ears.

You get wet just from the sounds he makes and the sight of his stomach tensing and neck extending.

Feeling a rush of nerve, you suddenly pull back. His cock pops out of your mouth with a wet sound. Easily, you climb astride on his hips and grab him.

You watch him, smiling, almost cocky, as you sit down on his prick. Your tight walls envelop him, your eyes flutter with a moan as you feel yourself being stretched. Only this time you’re no stranger to the feeling.

You move down until you’re sitting on him, his length securely inside you. Your hands perch on his chest and you stare at him wordlessly.

Reminding him, firmly but lovingly, that he’s still the only man who has ever done this to you. And if you have any say in it, he’s the only man who will ever do this to you.

You wait just until he starts to show first signs of restlessness before you begin to move. You pull yourself up, supporting your weight on your hands and knees, and just before he can slip out of you, you sink back down.

The pace is slow and torturous, you’re forcing Levi to bask in your warmth, completely at your mercy as you ride him.

You lean down, your eyes twinkling as you lock eyes with him.

“I’m yours,” you repeat again and take his lips. He kisses back with desperation, with feverish enthusiasm and when you pull back, you see the deep, inconsolable pain in his eyes.

You cup his cheek.

“It is alright. You can cry.”

He shakes his head.

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“No,” Levi says and he sounds tortured. “I _can’t_. Us augmented can’t.”

Your eyes soften and you kiss him again. A by-product of the horrific augmentation process no doubt, but it’s a cruel fate nonetheless.

“Then take it out on me,” you whisper and clench your muscles around him. He hisses and grits his teeth.

“Little miss-”

You tighten your muscles again as you ride him tantalisingly slowly, riling him up until he can’t take the teasing anymore.

He grabs your hips. Keeping you still, he starts pushing up, so hard you can hear the sound of your skins slapping together. His jaws are clenched, his eyes never leaving yours as you stay completely still, moaning and whimpering, and take the ruthless assault.

He goes harder, he goes deeper, his fingertips bury into your skin, leaving small bruises in their wake but you do nothing to stop it and when you finally move, it’s to push your hand down and touch yourself as Levi’s cock buries in to the hilt over and over.

Your eyes flutter, you throw your head back and just submit to the pleasure. It doesn’t take long until you feel the familiar tingling in your spine and lower stomach. You gasp, and as if sensing you’re nearing your end, Levi closes his hand over yours and gently moves your fingers away so he can deliver the last few rubs that send you over the edge.

You lick your lips and moan deeply as you come, your muscles spasming around Levi’s prick, gently coaxing him closer to his climax.

He drags you down to his level and kisses you deeply. His tongue brushes into your mouth, rubbing against yours as he keeps moving just as hard and just as fast.

He hardly has the time to pull you off his cock when he finally comes a few moments later. His seed shoots all over his stomach and a guttural groan rumbles from his throat.

You grab a napkin from the bedside table and clean Levi gently. Then, you snuggle closer until your head is resting against his chest.

“See?” you say quietly. “The marriage changes nothing.”

“It should change things,” Levi replies tiredly, but he doesn’t seem to be in the mood for an argument. Instead, he loops an arm around your waist and kisses your forehead.

You kiss his cool skin and close your eyes, relishing in the way Levi’s chest rises and falls underneath you.

“Why can you not cry?” you ask after a moment.

“Something to do with the augmentations. Hange said that when our skulls are reinforced, they need to cut our tear ducts.

“Why did you volunteer for such a horrific procedure?” you ask. You don’t understand. Why would anyone choose that?

“It’s a great honour, the greatest honour an orphan can get. Plus… Well. Orphans aren’t exactly treated well. Becoming a high ranking soldier and getting augmented is one of the only ways out of that.”

“You were poor?” You prop your head up to look at him.

“Not exactly. We’re clothed and fed but there’s little freedom or earnings. Some choose to get augmented just for the higher pay grade, though that was never my motivation.”

“Then what was yours?”

“To serve Varsiko.”

Sounds simple and like something Levi would do.

“Do many of them turn it down?”

“I’ve never heard of anyone.”

You hum. As horrid as the augmentations are, not to mention the loyalty chips, at least the orphans who have to earn their keep from ground up have something to aspire for.

You suddenly remember your discussion with Eren, about his desire to have children with you. You promptly decide not to tell Levi now. Not when you’ve only narrowly escaped a bigger fallout with him.

You’ll tell him when the time is right. When you’ve come to a settled agreement with Eren to put those plans on hold indefinitely.

You doubt Eren himself knows what he wants. He’s likely just trying to sort through some difficult emotions, knowing his brother is trying to get his lover pregnant, and the only conceivable way for him to get back at the unfair situation is to do the same with you.

You doubt it’ll last.

“How are we going to get back to my room without being caught?” you suddenly realise. Levi sighs.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to solve the last few minutes. We can’t go out like this, you’re indecent and seeing you come out of the guard barracks is suspicious enough as is. We can’t trust maids or guards to fetch your clothes without babbling. I can’t leave you here to go grab your clothes.”

He gently guides you off his chest and sits up. He gives you your clothes and you both get dressed in silence. You know you can’t stay here all day, you need to attend breakfast.

“I’ll go flag down a soldier and tell them to fetch your maid,” he finally decides.

You nod. It makes the most sense. Levi moves to the door.

“Stay here,” he tells you and then walks off, only to return a dozen seconds later with Maid Springer in tow.

She’s holding an unassuming sack and she gives you the kind of scolding look that makes you shrink a little.

“She was waiting outside in the corridor pretending to do housekeeping,” Levi explains. Maid Springer crosses her arms.

“I went to bring her grace some new clothes in the suite only to find the Czarevich sleeping alone with your dress left behind. My heart almost leapt right out of my chest!”

She gives you an accusing look and you wince sheepishly.

“Sorry.”

“The Czarevich’s guard said you’d gone and run off with your guard without proper clothes to the direction of the barracks so I took the dress back to your room and packed the new clothes in this sack to conceal them. Had some soldiers ask me nosy questions but I just told those younglings to mind their own business.”

You have no idea what you’ve done to earn Maid Springer’s loyalty but it fills you with gratitude nonetheless.

“Let’s get you dressed, then, and ready for breakfast.”

She makes no comment of what you were potentially doing in Levi’s room. She’s long since caught on to it and you know her keeping her mouth shut is a major reason why you haven’t been caught.

“Thank you, Maid Springer. What would I do without you?” you ask with a small smile as she takes out a simple dress and starts fastening it on you.

“You would be one poor darling, that’s for sure,” she squawks, but there’s warm fondness to her tone.

More than anyone else, she’s your mother figure. Maybe even more so than your own mother ever was. She keeps nagging under her breath as she gets you clothed. You give Levi a playful grimace.

He offers an updrawn eyebrow in return.

You manage to sneak out of Levi’s room without drawing attention to yourselves. Maid Springer goes to clean up your room while you make it to the dining room.

As you enter, you garner a few curious looks. The rest are already there.

“Sorry I’m late,” you murmur and take your seat. Czar Yeager laughs heartily.

“Don’t apologize, my child. I’m sure you must be exhausted from sleeping so little.”

You’re glad he doesn’t comment on things further or ask any questions about the night. You let him keep his assumptions.

“Did you like the party? I did my best to instruct the cooks to make a bit more of a Novarynian cuisine but I’m not sure how well they managed it,” the Czarina then speaks up. She’s been notably more cordial after you gave her the cinder rose seeds.

“The party was quite lovely, your grace. Thank you.“ You smile at her and then briefly glance at Historia. She has huge circles under her eyes and she’s staring into her untouched food.

She doesn’t look too good. Next to her, Zeke is eating with normal appetite, though he gives you small glances over his food, eyes twinkling with quiet amusement.

Nothing new there.

Eren avoids looking at you altogether, though Czar Yeager seems to chalk it up to post-coital bashfulness.

You eat while making idle chit-chat with the Czar and Czarina and when you get up, Czar Yeager gives his wife one glance before standing up.

“Cora, wait. I-I suppose you’re entitled to this now.”

His reluctance is obvious as he takes out a small, golden key and hands it to you. You take it and immediately know what it is. It’s a key to open those locked books in the library.

“Thank you, your grace.”

“Just… Please, try to understand our perspective as you read. We never wanted to-” He cuts himself off and shakes his head. “Well, I suppose it matters not.”

He sits back down and resumes eating. The rest of the royal family is watching you apprehensively, like you’re an unpredictable beast that has just charged into the room.

You pocket the key and walk out, Levi following you keenly. In your mind, you’re formulating a plan. You don’t know where the meat of the issue is going to be among all those locked books, so you need a strategic way of browsing through them all.

Or, you could try to ask Armin or Hange where to start, but you doubt they’ll help you. The Czar and the rest of the royal family even less so.

Nonetheless, the first thing to do is to return to your room and come up with a plan.

You get inside. Maid Springer has finished tidying and left. You’re just about to turn to Levi to start conspiring when you notice something on your pillow.

You glance at the letter.

“Is it starting all over again? Is the Czarevich trying to scare me off from opening the books?” you sigh and hold your head. It brings back unpleasant memories of things you’ve all but shrugged off your mind.

Despite that, you grab the letter and tear it open.

_I know what you’re seeking._

_What you want is the notebook of Ymir Fritz’s assistant, Galel Weber. Pages 46-49 and 768. Those will get you started._

_\- M_

You frown. M?

You go through the people you know in the royal family and the Wing of Science but you don’t recall anyone with a name that starts with M.

You hand the letter to Levi. He reads it.

“Whoever this M is, there’s no harm in checking where it suggests first,” Levi says what you’re both thinking. You nod. You agree.

“Let us go.”

About half a round later, you return with both of your arms full of books. You took every single book you could find with a golden lock on it.

These should keep you busy for a while.

You feel Levi’s eyes on you as you start going through the books, taking Galel Weber’s notebook aside when you come across it and putting the rest in your already impressively stocked book shelf.

“What is it?” you ask as you pause to look at him. He looks pensive.

“Are you sure you want to know?” he finally asks. “Once you know, you can never take it back. Maybe ignorance really is bliss.”

“You are being ridiculous,” you scoff and resume working. When you’re done putting the books away, you fit the key in the lock and clamp the notebook open. You settle down on your bed and start browsing through the pages.

The book is clearly old, it smells musty and the pages are just a little smudged. It’s obvious the book has passed through many hands, mostly alchemists who have passed the bar exam.

Levi doesn’t protest any further but he observes you worriedly from the door, standing guard as you find the correct page and start reading. It takes a moment to make sense of the handwriting of an obviously scatterbrained scientist, but you pick up momentum rather easily.

_Experimenting with augmentations hasn’t yielded wanted results. Test subjects of Varsikovian, Ljudelian and Nambalese descent reject metals fiercely regardless of the components used. It’s as if there’s something in our biology keeping us from augmenting ourselves. Alchemy remains a dangerous endeavour due to extreme adverse reactions by alchemists themselves to chemicals used in alchemical rituals._

_It’s imperative that made tools and weapons are thoroughly decontaminated before given to soldiers for use._

_Ymir’s getting more and more irritated as she can’t get to a breakthrough. Is it truly impossible for humans to be augmented? Then why do the seized holy texts from East Novaryn depict a small Black Science monastery that managed to alter its inhabitants by metal coating their skin?_

_We’ve controlled most variables, aside from nationality. Ymir is going to test that next._

_-_

_The experiments on Novarynian prisoners of war show promising results. For one reason or another, their bodies have proven to be extraordinarily resistant to chemicals used in alchemical rituals. Furthermore, their bodies are more receptive to augmentations. With the right composition, a breakthrough might be close. Keeping the experimentations a secret from Novaryn has been difficult, given the scope of experiments and the high death rate, out crematoriums are at maximum capacity._

_Ymir has hardly slept since she discovered the difference between Novarynians and the rest. The reason for it is unknown as Novarynians regardless of birthplace or outward differences such as skin colour have proven to be receptive. It being the result of a long, evolutional process seems unbelievable. Then again, the only other explanation would be their faith. But the Creator doesn’t exist._

_Either case, Ymir’s invention to protect ourselves from adverse effects to the chemicals used in Alchemy has made it possible to multiply the number of alchemists working on the experiments. A few have expressed concerns about the ethics of the invention as well as the experiments themselves, but we’re merely doing what we must._

_-_

_A breakthrough! Ymir has successfully augmented a Novarynian POW. We’re doing the best we can to keep him alive long enough to test the augmentations. It’s still far from completed as this specimen is expected to die soon, plus we still don’t know how to make it so that Varsikovians can receive them._

_We’ve got a long way to go, but the results are certainly promising. Ymir has successfully proven that augmentations can be done. This should make Admiral Nimbus Zackly give us appropriate funds to continue experimenting._

You look up from the book with a long sigh. So, they experimented on Novarynians to make the augmentations happen. For whatever reason, your kind is more receptive to Alchemy. Maybe it’s because Alchemy was discovered by Novarynians, a fact you only learnt after reading _Song of Steel_.

You should be surprised, only you’re not. It was in the vein of what you more or less expected. You shake your head and go back to reading. At least the worst of it seems to be over.

You skip ahead to the next part the mysterious note told you to look at. You only glance through the pages and pages of hastily scribbled notes but they mostly depict technical details you don’t know enough about to make sense of.

_It’s been a long decade, but we’ve finally perfected the augmentation process. However, due to the loyalty chips still being in their infancy, Admiral Zackly has not officially started the project yet. However, he’s willing to secure a steady stream of future augmented soldiers. We should have the chip perfected by the time they reach maturity and can be augmented._

You frown. Reach maturity? You get an ominous feeling.

_Admiral Zackly has successfully secured the town of Sorn. The women arrived to the breeding facility in good health and semen samples from Novarynian POWs have been delivered. Admiral Zackly has introduced the new last name system for orphans, allowing us to recognize and track Novarynian descendants._

_Not all descendants will be augmented, it’s too expensive. But the ones who show aptitude for fighting will be guided to the military. Of them, the top specimens will receive augmentations. Admiral Zackly has deemed the existence of Sorn Breeding Facility (SBF) highly confidential. No one aside from top military personnel, members of the royal family and alchemists who take the bar exam to study augmentations are to learn about the facility._

_Likewise, the use of Novarynian skin to create protective equipment for alchemists so they can freely handle toxic chemicals and metals is highly confidential. We’ll attempt to breed half-Novarynians to see if the resistance transfers to the offspring, though Ymir hypothesizes that it won’t be the case. Whatever protects them from the adverse effects seems to be easily diluted._

_The bred Novarynians themselves are to believe they’re orphaned by the war and are raised in orphanages to become Varsikovian citizens, though orphanage nannies are taught to keep an eye out for children with talent for fighting or strategy. The highly gifted ones will be augmented and take on the exclusive name of Ackerman-_

“Hey.”

You visibly jump and turn to look at Levi with wide eyes. You pull the book to your chest, now terrified he’ll look at it and learn all this.

“You look like you’ve seen an apparition. Is it truly that bad?” he asks and crosses his arms. He cocks his head to the side.

Suddenly, you’re overtaken by memories as all the puzzle pieces lock together.

Why they wanted to keep this from you.

Why Levi always says you felt and smelt like home.

Why Hange was fine with performing alchemical rituals and sinking her hands in uranium, lithium, magnesium and other extremely toxic chemicals while breaking out in blisters when as much as touching alchemically enhanced residue.

You remember the wrinkly pile of what looked like pig skin on her desk and you suddenly feel like vomiting. That was some poor Novarynian, skinned alive like livestock.

You remember learning how Nimbus Zackly overtook Sorn over 70 years ago and all the fertile age women went missing.

You remember learning that only orphans are augmented.

You look at Levi.

All the while, he thought he lost his parents thanks to Novaryn.

He voluntarily took the chip and the augmentations to protect his country.

Only, it wasn’t his country.

You shoot to your feet. You start staggering towards the bathroom, the book falling from your hands as you do. Levi follows you with a worried frown. You’re dizzy. You feel like you’re going to be sick.

You barely make it to the toilet before you barf. You distantly feel Levi hold your hair back and stroke your back, but your mind is whirring with the new information.

Human experimentation. Human breeding.

Augmentations.

Finding out the very thing that gave Varsiko the edge over their warfare over half a century ago was something they took from Novaryn.

Raising bred Novarynians just to brainwash and mutilate them.

Finding out the man you love is one of those poor children who was taken away, given a faux cause and then carefully curated for use.

You fill with rage. They did all this, behind everyone’s back. Somewhere out there are facilities filled with Novarynian women, doomed to get pregnant and give birth endlessly until they can’t anymore and are most likely euthanised since they are no longer of use.

And just like Zeke said, your rage soon turns to frustration and then despair when you realise you can’t put an end to this.

You have nothing to bribe them over. They know it as well. If you tell Novaryn, you’ll go right back to war.

You slump on your knees when you’re done puking. Levi hands you a napkin and you wipe your mouth.

“What’s going on?”

You shake your head. How could you look him in the eye and tell him what you just read?

Yet still, you know he deserves the truth. You hang your head and clutch your hands into fists. You bite your lip and suddenly, you feel like crying.

Forcing yourself to meet his eyes, you suddenly feel guilty. As if this was all your fault. Had your family done a better job at protecting those living in East Novaryn, this would never have happened.

“Levi… You should go and read for yourself.”

You drop your gaze. You don’t dare to move as Levi steps back and returns to the room to rummage through the documents you just read.

Ten minutes later, you hear the sound of something falling to the floor as he drops the book.

You don’t know what’s more unnerving, the long, oppressive silence that follows or the absolutely tormented cry that follows as it all sinks in.

That what he thought he was, he wasn’t, and the only things constant in his life were all a cruel, elaborate lie.

You hug your knees to your chest and listen quietly. Taking it all in as his world comes apart and falls in shambles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's up gang, it's ya boi SquibblesMcGoo! 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading this chapter full of epic gamer moves! Pls remember to like, comment and subscribe!


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